#~M: a glimpse between worlds

[thevalicemultiverse]

Happy Halloween From the Valice Multiverse!

VITD Alice: Well, our world has Devil's Night, but that seems to work roughly the same to all your Halloweens, so, still.

Secundus Victor: [clearly worried] Roughly the same?

VITD Alice: I doubt your world has demons going around offering worryingly-good deals with suspiciously-small prices to people for this night only.

Secundus Victor: ...no, we just have a very elaborate parade.

VITD Smiler: [instantly intrigued] Parade?

Secundus Victor: [grinning] Yes -- come on, I get the feeling you at least will love it.

[moonlightwritingf1]

Not so Innocent | LN4

💋 summary ━━━━━━━ After Lando wins the 2025 championship, he finally gets his chance with Y/N, Oscar's younger sister. Although everyone always assumed she was the innocent one, her surprising confidence and intriguing personality reveal that there’s far more to her than meets the eye.

💋 pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader, Lando Norris x Piastri!reader

💋 word count ━━━━━━━ 8.4k

💋 warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content, p in v, unprotected sex, creampie, oral sex (f and m receiving), fingering?, rough sex, choking?, gagging on cock, multiple orgasms, deep throat, cum eating?

Based on this request.

A steady cheer buzzed through the open-air club in Abu Dhabi, where bright lights sprayed across the dance floor. The entire McLaren team had gathered to celebrate Lando Norris’s triumphant win—his very first Formula One World Drivers’ Championship. It was early December 2025, and the desert air, warm and dry, carried laughter, congratulatory toasts, and the distant hum of music through the night.

Just beyond the crowd, Lando stood by the bar, a gleaming smile never leaving his face. At 26, he was the new champion, that fresh hint of pride in his eyes. His adrenaline remained high from the race weekend, and every so often, he’d run a hand through his hair, pushing away the constant attention to keep his composure.

Standing only a few feet away from him, Y/N drifted in and out of friendly conversations. She had come from Australia a few days earlier to see the final race of the season—she wouldn’t have missed it for the world. Her brother, Oscar, drove for McLaren too, a year older than Y/N, but always protective, especially when it came to Lando. Y/N had always been known as the “innocent” one: a certain polite gentleness in how she spoke, a sweet sincerity in her eyes. Yet there was a flicker of quiet confidence inside her that wasn’t always visible to everyone else—Lando had glimpsed it, now and then, whenever she teased him or met his jokes with her own quick wit.

Music pounded on, and the swirl of lights highlighted everyone’s beaming faces. Lando caught her eye, and she felt a small thrill shoot through her. She allowed herself a timid smile, remembering how that same grin of his had her heart fluttering at Silverstone earlier in the year, or in Monza, or anywhere else she’d seen him. He’d always greet her with a relaxed wave and a playful comment or two, but she’d never thought he would want anything beyond casual banter, especially not with her older brother’s protective gaze forever in the background.

Yet here they were, hugging the edges of the party, energy crackling between them like a secret.

Oscar, for his part, was comfortably nestled in a conversation with McLaren’s top engineers, praising the car's performance that season. Y/N was grateful her brother was distracted. He was good at playing the watchful sibling—he’d made it perfectly clear to Lando that Y/N was “off-limits,” especially after glimpsing some of Lando’s rumored “playboy” ways. Tonight, however, most eyes were either on the new World Champion or on the free-flowing champagne.

Y/N found herself leaning on the bar, sipping ginger ale, content to remain a quiet observer. She wore a sleek dress in a soft color, its silhouette hugging her figure more than her usual casual outfits. Perhaps that subtle confidence she sometimes hid away was seeping through this evening—she felt radiant, certain, even daring.

As if summoned by her thoughts, Lando slipped over to her, wearing a conspiratorial grin. “Aren’t you supposed to be celebrating?” he asked, his voice low enough that only she could hear. “I know you don’t have a race to run tomorrow. Are you afraid of letting loose, or are you just saving your energy?”

She arched an eyebrow, playful. “You might be the champion, Lando, but you don’t get to make me do anything I don’t want,” she teased. “Besides, maybe I’m enjoying the view from right here.”

His eyes sparkled. He was used to easy flirtations, but he couldn’t deny it—something about Y/N always made his heart race. “I’m definitely enjoying the view,” he returned, letting the slightest hint of flirtation linger in his tone.

They chatted about the race. Y/N told him how she thought his overtakes had been flawless under pressure. Lando responded by asking about her time in Melbourne, how she found the racing scene there and how proud her parents were of both her and Oscar. Slowly, they drifted deeper into conversation, the rest of the party falling away. At some point, he guided her away from the bar with a gentle hand at her waist, heading for a quieter corner where the music felt less thunderous.

They settled into a plush lounge seat. Her body angled toward him, knees nearly touching. She could smell the faint cologne on his skin, something warm and woodsy. She noticed the silver bracelet glittering on his wrist, the same one he always wore—said it was a lucky charm from a friend.

Lando leaned close, voice pitched just for her ears. “You know, Oscar told me the day I met you that I’d better not get any ideas.” He lifted an amused brow. “Reckon he saw something in the way I looked at you.”

Y/N laughed a little. “Well, he does claim to read minds. He’s not as good as he thinks, though.” She paused, tapping a thoughtful finger to her lips. “And…what about you? Did you really have ideas?” She couldn’t believe she was being so forward, her usual timidity melting into the swirling atmosphere of possibility.

He rested his elbow on the back of the sofa, gaze fixed on her. “I did,” he admitted, speaking over the heavy throb of music, “but I never acted. Figured you’d see me the way most people do—a flirty driver with a short attention span.”

Y/N’s lips twitched into a small smile. “You’re more than that. At least…you seemed more than that to me. Been watching you for a while, you know.”

Heat coursed between them at that admission, and neither of them seemed to mind how close their hands had gotten. His fingers brushed against hers. She caught her breath—this was too intense, but also exhilarating.

He lowered his head a fraction, close enough that she could feel his breath fan across her cheek. “Congratulations are in order for me. But now I’m thinking I should congratulate you—on staying so patient. On seeing what others might not see in me.”

She stifled a small, nervous laugh. “Lando, you might want to be careful with lines like that. You’ll give a girl the wrong idea.”

“Maybe it’s the right idea,” he murmured.

Her heart fluttered. Everything felt magnified: the lights, the vibrations of the music, his presence. The day had been an emotional one—he had just been crowned champion, after all. They were in the glowing aftermath of victory, and the tension they’d been ignoring for months had finally found a moment to surface.

Suddenly a wave of applause and a burst of cheering ruffled the room; some of the team had decided to raise Oscar up, presumably praising him for his own strong season. A few faces turned in Lando’s direction, inviting him over. He gave them a quick, friendly wave but stayed in place, eyes only for Y/N.

She tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear and set aside her empty glass on a nearby table. “They need you,” she said softly.

He shrugged, unwavering. “But I need you more.”

Her cheeks heated, and a ripple of excitement wound through her chest. She tried to scold him lightly—“You’d better not let your fans hear you say that”—but her voice cracked with amusement.

Before either of them could talk themselves out of the moment, he leaned in. Cautiously at first, as if testing boundaries. Y/N inhaled sharply, parted her lips. Their mouths found each other in a slow, sweet brush that built with every passing second. In the back of her mind, she realized exactly what they were doing, that they were in the midst of the McLaren celebration. But the world felt thousands of miles away.

His lips pressed against hers with rising urgency, and she made the faintest sound of surprise and delight. The taste of him—spearmint gum and leftover champagne—sent warmth crackling through her. She looped her arms around his neck, and he responded by pulling her closer to his body, their hearts pounding in unison.

After a few moments of stolen kisses, they broke apart, breathless. The corners of Lando’s mouth curled into a grin, as if he couldn’t believe he was finally allowed to kiss her. She had an almost dazed expression, lips tingling.

He swallowed, took a steadying breath. “Come with me,” he whispered.

Her eyes flicked around at the crowd. “Back to your hotel?”

He gave a brisk nod, the glint in his eye telling her precisely where his thoughts had traveled. “I…well, I’m not exactly subtle, am I?”

She laughed, a sound full of gentle mischief. “Not even a little.”

A few minutes later, with some well-timed goodbyes and a quick word to a clueless Oscar—who seemed too preoccupied with a new wave of celebration to question his sister’s exit—Lando and Y/N slipped out. The short drive back to Lando’s hotel was a blur: the taxi’s radio, the neon lights of Abu Dhabi passing by, his arm wrapped around her shoulder as she leaned into him. They didn’t speak much; the tension they had tiptoed around for so long now simmered tangibly between them.

As soon as they reached the suite—a luxurious room with a spectacular view of Yas Marina Circuit—Lando swiped the keycard. The heavy door clicked shut behind them. The instant the latch caught, he turned to her. They stood close, the hush of air-conditioning the only sound.

And then, as though a dam had broken, he cupped her face and kissed her again, this time with a fervor that made her head spin. She responded with equal fervency, letting her fingertips press into the fabric of his shirt, feeling his heart hammering beneath.

Their breathing grew ragged. Fingers tangled in each other’s hair; hands traveled over backs, arms, waists. Y/N surprised him with just how brazen she was—there was no shy hesitation in her touches now. She was urging him on, meeting every kiss with more boldness.

“Do you know,” he murmured between kisses, “how many times I’ve imagined this?”

Y/N, savoring the heat of his breath on her neck, whispered back, “I could only guess.”

Y/N’s lips curved into a sly smile, one that took him by surprise. “You’re not the only one.” Her hands slid down his chest, fingers deftly undoing the buttons of his shirt. Lando’s breath hitched as she pushed the fabric off his shoulders, her touch lingering on his skin. He had always imagined her as sweet, innocent, but the way her fingers traced his abs, the way her gaze burned with intensity, told him he had been very wrong.

“Y/N,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “You’re… not at all what I expected.”

She laughed softly, the sound sending a shiver down his spine. “And what did you expect? A blushing virgin who didn’t know what to do?” Her hands slid to his belt, unbuckling it with practiced ease. “I might look innocent, Lando, but I’m far from it.”

His hands tightened on her waist, pulling her closer. “Prove it,” he challenged, his tone daring.

She didn’t hesitate. With a confidence that left him breathless, she pushed him back onto the bed, following him down without breaking their gaze. Her lips found his again, this time with a hunger that matched his own. Her hands roamed over his body, exploring every inch of him, leaving trails of fire in their wake. Lando groaned, his own hands slipping under her dress, sliding it up her thighs.

“God, Y/N,” he gasped as her lips moved to his neck, her teeth grazing his skin. “You’re driving me crazy.”

She smiled against his neck, her hands working on the zipper of her dress. “Good.” The dress slid down her body, pooling at her feet, and Lando’s eyes widened as he took in the sight of her. She was stunning, her confidence radiating as she stood before him, unashamed and unapologetic.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathed, his hands reaching for her. But she stepped back, shaking her head with a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Not yet,” she teased, her voice low and sultry. She knelt before him, her hands resting on his thighs, and Lando’s breath caught as she looked up at him through her lashes.

“Y/N,” he warned, his voice strained, but she only smiled, her fingers hooking into the waistband of his boxers.

“Relax, Lando,” she purred, leaning in closer. “Let me take care of you.”

She didn’t waste a moment, her hands moving to the waistband of his trousers. With a swift, practiced motion, she tugged them down, along with his boxers, leaving him fully exposed. 

Lando’s breath hitched, his hands gripping the sheets as he watched her kneel before him, her eyes locking onto his with a confidence that sent a jolt of electricity through him. She leaned in, her lips brushing against the tip of his cock, but instead of the shy, tentative kiss he expected, she paused, her gaze never leaving his. Then, with a wicked smirk, she spat onto his cock, the sound sharp and wet in the quiet room.

Lando’s jaw dropped, his eyes wide with shock. “Shit—look at the mess you just made… you’re so fucking filthy,” he groaned, his voice thick with arousal. The spit glistened on his length, and Y/N didn’t waste a second. She licked it up slowly, her tongue flicking over the tip before she spat again, this time letting it trail down his shaft, her eyes glinting with mischief. “I didn’t expect you to be this messy… but fuck, I love it,” he admitted, his hips bucking slightly as she worked. “You’re spitting on my cock like you fucking own it.”

She smirked up at him, her fingers tightening around the base of his cock as she leaned in, her lips wrapping around him once more. But this time, she didn’t stop at the tip. She deepthroated him effortlessly, taking him all the way down her throat like she had done it a thousand times before. Lando’s head fell back, a guttural groan escaping his lips as he felt her throat tighten around him. “Shit—baby, you’re full of fucking surprises, aren’t you?” he gasped, his voice strained with desire. “You didn’t even hesitate… fuck, baby, you’re actually trying to kill me.”

The sensation was overwhelming—her mouth was warm, wet, and impossibly tight, her throat muscles constricting perfectly around him. “Look at you, taking every fucking inch. Didn’t think you had it in you,” he breathed, his hand tangling in her hair. “You’re not even gagging—fuck, that’s so fucking hot.” His cock throbbed inside her mouth, every inch of him enveloped in pure pleasure, and he could feel his control slipping with every stroke of her tongue.

Y/N pulled back slightly, her lips swollen and glistening with spit, and looked up at him with a look that sent a shiver down his spine. “I swear to God, Y/N, I’ve never been this hard in my life,” he admitted, his voice shaking. “You really know what you’re doing, don’t you? How the fuck did I not see this side of you before?” She didn’t respond with words, her mouth returning to him with a hunger that left him breathless.

Her hands rested on his thighs, gripping tightly as she looked up at him, her eyes never leaving his. “Fuck me,” she whispered, her voice low and commanding, her lips glistening with spit. “Fuck my throat, Lando. I want you to use me.”

Lando’s breath caught, his cock twitching at the demand. “Shit, Y/N,” he groaned, his voice rough with desire. “You’re so fucking filthy. You really want me to fuck your throat? You’re not holding back, are you?”

She didn’t respond with words, only a wicked smirk as she leaned back in, her lips wrapping around him once more. This time, she didn’t wait for him to take control. She bobbed her head, taking him deep, her throat tightening around him in a way that made him groan. “Fuck,” he hissed, his fingers tangling in her hair. “You’re actually letting me do this? You’re not even—Jesus, Y/N, you’re perfect.”

Her hands tightened on his thighs, urging him on. “Do it,” she managed to say between strokes, her voice muffled but clear. “Fuck my throat like you mean it.”

Lando didn’t need to be told twice. His hips snapped forward, driving himself deeper into her mouth, and he let out a guttural moan as he felt her throat constrict around him. “Shit, baby, you’re taking it so fucking well,” he growled, his pace quickening. “You’re letting me use you like this, huh? Such a good fucking girl. Fuck, you’re drooling all over me. Look at you, making such a mess for me.”

Y/N’s moans vibrated around him, her eyes never leaving his, and he could feel his control slipping with every thrust. “I swear to God, Y/N, I’ve never been this hard in my life,” he admitted, his voice shaking. “You’re not even flinching. You’re just letting me take you, letting me fuck your throat like it’s mine. How the fuck did I not see this side of you before?”

She smirked around him, her hands sliding up to his hips, pulling him deeper. “Harder,” she managed to choke out, and Lando obeyed without hesitation, his hips slamming against her face as he lost himself in the sensation. “Fuck, Y/N, you’re trying to kill me,” he gasped, his voice strained. “You’re so fucking good at this. You’re going to make me come if you keep going like this.”

But she didn’t stop. If anything, she took him deeper, her throat swallowing him whole as he lost himself in the pure, unrelenting pleasure of her mouth. “You’re perfect,” he panted, his fingers tightening in her hair. “Fuck, you’re perfect.”

Lando’s cock ached with need, his hips thrusting into her mouth with abandon. Her throat was a tight, wet heat that drove him wild, and the way she took him so easily, so hungrily, was almost too much to bear. “Didn’t think my sweet, innocent girl would be this fucking filthy,” he growled, his voice thick with arousal. “Fuck, you love this, don’t you? Taking me down your throat like you were made for it.”

Y/N’s eyes watered slightly as he pushed her to her limit, but she didn’t pull away. Instead, she moaned around him again, her hands gripping his thighs as she took every inch he gave her. “Shit, I can feel you gagging, but you’re still taking it. Such a good girl,” he murmured, his grip on her hair tightening. “You’re making me lose my fucking mind, baby.”

His hips moved faster, his cock sliding in and out of her throat with a wet, rhythmic sound. “Look at you, eyes watering, but you’re still begging for more,” he panted, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t even have to tell you what to do. You just know. Fuck, that’s so hot.” The room was filled with the sounds of her moans and his ragged breaths, the tension between them reaching its breaking point.

“You’re sucking me like you want to ruin me, baby. And it’s working,” he groaned, his body trembling under her touch. Lando could feel himself teetering on the edge, his body taut with pleasure as she continued to drive him wild. “Baby, you’re too fucking good at this… are you sure you’re as innocent as everyone thinks?” he panted, his voice barely above a whisper.

She pulled back once more, her lips swollen and glistening, her eyes locked onto his with a look that told him she was far from done. “You’re going to be the death of me, Y/N,” he groaned, his body trembling under her touch. “But fuck, what a way to go.”

She looked at him with a smirk. “Still think I’m innocent?”

He laughed, the sound breathless and rough. “Not even close.”

She stood up slowly, her eyes never leaving his as she reached behind her to unhook her bra. The fabric slipped from her shoulders, revealing her breasts, the nipples already hard with anticipation. She let the bra fall to the floor, her hands trailing down her body as she hooked her fingers into the waistband of her panties. With a slow, deliberate motion, she slid them down her legs, stepping out of them and kicking them aside. The sight of her completely naked, her pussy glistening with arousal, sent a jolt of desire through Lando that made his cock throb painfully.

“Tell me, Lando,” she purred, her voice low and sultry as she climbed onto the bed, straddling his lap. Her pussy brushed against the length of his cock, the wet heat of her sending sparks of electricity through his body. “How badly do you want me right now?” Her hips rolled slowly, the slickness of her folds sliding along his shaft, teasing him mercilessly.

Lando’s breath hitched, his hands gripping her hips tightly as she ground against him. “Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, his voice rough with desire. “You have no idea.” 

She leaned down, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, “I know you’ve had your fair share of women, but let’s see if any of them made you feel like this.” Her hips moved in slow, deliberate circles, the wet heat of her pussy making his cock ache with need. She could feel every inch of him pressing against her, the thick length of him pulsing with desire as she teased him. 

“Congratulations, world champion,” she said, her voice laced with amusement as she rocked against him. “Now, let’s see if you can keep up with me.”

Her hands drifted up to her breasts, her fingers pinching and tugging at her nipples, making them even harder. She moaned softly, the sensation of her own touch sending waves of pleasure through her body. Her tits bounced slightly with the movement of her hips, the sight of her playing with herself driving Lando wild.

“All this time, you thought I was just Oscar’s sweet little sister… but tell me, Lando, do I still seem so innocent rubbing my pussy on your cock?” she teased, her voice dripping with mischief. Her pussy was so wet, the slickness of her coating his cock as she ground against him, the friction making her moan softly.

Lando’s hands tightened on her hips, his breath coming in ragged gasps as she continued to tease him. “Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, his voice strained. “You’re killing me.”

“You can’t stop staring… is it because you’re turned on, or because you’re still trying to figure out where your sweet, innocent Y/N went?” she whispered, her lips brushing against his ear. Her hips moved faster, the wet heat of her pussy sliding along his cock, making him groan.

She could feel the tension building in him, the way his cock pulsed against her, and she knew he was close. But she wasn’t ready to let him have her yet. Her hands continued to play with her breasts, squeezing and kneading them, the sensation making her moan softly. She loved the way it felt, the way her nipples ached with pleasure as she pinched them, the way her tits bounced with the movement of her hips.

“I bet you thought I’d be shy about this… that I’d blush and hesitate. But look at you, Lando. You’re the one left speechless,” she taunted, her voice filled with satisfaction. Her pussy was so wet, the slickness of her coating his cock as she ground against him, the friction making her moan softly.

“You thought you had me all figured out, didn’t you? That I was too good, too sweet, too off-limits. But tell me, do I feel off-limits now?” she whispered, her lips brushing against his ear. Her hips moved faster, the wet heat of her pussy sliding along his cock, making him groan.

Lando’s grip on her hips tightened, his breath coming in ragged gasps as she continued to tease him. “Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, his voice strained. 

“Please…” 

“Please what, Lando?” she purred, her voice filled with amusement. Her hips moved in slow, deliberate circles, the wet heat of her pussy making his cock ache with need. She could feel every inch of him pressing against her, the thick length of him pulsing with desire as she teased him. 

“Please, just take me,” he begged, his voice desperate.

Y/N smirked, leaning down to capture his lips in a searing kiss. “As you wish,” she whispered, her voice filled with promise.

She lifted her hips slightly, positioning herself over him. The tip of his cock brushed against her entrance, and she moaned softly, the sensation sending a shiver of anticipation through her body. Slowly, she sank down onto him, the thick length of him filling her completely. She gasped, her eyes fluttering shut for a moment as she savored the feeling of him inside her.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Lando groaned, his hands gripping her hips tightly as she took him. “You feel so fucking good.”

She opened her eyes, looking down at him with a smirk. “I know,” she said, her voice filled with satisfaction. 

She started to move, her hips rocking slowly at first, the wet heat of her pussy squeezing him tightly. The sensation was overwhelming, the way her pussy gripped him, the way her wetness coated him, the way her movements sent waves of pleasure through his body.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so fucking tight,” he groaned, his voice shaking. “You’re going to make me come.”

Y/N smirked, her hips moving faster, the wet heat of her pussy squeezing him even tighter. “That’s the idea,” she purred, her voice filled with satisfaction. 

He couldn’t hold back any longer. The moment she started to ride him in earnest, the second stroke of her hips was all it took. His cock throbbed inside her, the pressure building until it was unbearable. With a guttural groan, he came, his cum shooting deep inside her, filling her completely.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he gasped, his body trembling with the intensity of his orgasm. “I can’t believe I just came so fast.” 

She smirked, her hips still moving slowly, milking every last drop from him. “You really couldn’t help yourself, could you?” she teased, her voice filled with amusement. She loved the way his cum felt inside her, the way it filled her, the way it made her pussy feel even more sensitive.

Lando groaned, his face burning with embarrassment. “Fuck, Y/N, I swear that never happens—” 

She leaned down, her lips brushing against his ear. “Did I really just make the big, bad playboy cum in two seconds?” she whispered, her voice filled with satisfaction.

He groaned, his whole face turning red. “Baby, I swear I’m usually better than that.” 

She grinned, dragging a hand down his abs. “I know, but it’s kinda cute seeing you like this.”

He groaned again, his cock still twitching inside her, over-sensitive but still hard. “Okay, in my defense, you feel too fucking good.” 

She raised a brow, her hips moving slightly, teasing him. “Is that supposed to make you sound less pathetic?”

He groaned, his hands gripping her hips tightly. “Shut up and let me redeem myself.” 

She smirked, her hips still moving slowly, milking every last drop from him. “You’re not done, are you?”

He swallowed thickly, his cock still twitching inside her. “Not even close.”

Y/N smirked, her hips grinding against him slowly, milking every last drop from him. Then, with a deliberate motion, she lifted herself off his cock, his cum already beginning to drip out of her. She watched as his cock slid out of her pussy, the thick length glistening with a mix of her wetness and his cum. Her pussy felt empty without him, the warmth of his release pooling inside her, but the sensation only heightened her arousal. She was still dripping wet, her pussy throbbing with need, her body craving more.

She reached down, her fingers tracing the swollen lips of her pussy, feeling the thick, creamy mess of his cum as it dripped out of her. She sighed softly, the sensation of her own touch sending shivers through her body. She dipped her fingers inside herself, collecting his cum, and then brought them to her mouth, her lips wrapping around them as she sucked them clean. She moaned softly, the taste of him on her tongue making her even wetter. She repeated the motion, her fingers diving back into her pussy, scooping up more of his cum before bringing them back to her mouth, sucking and licking them clean with a wicked smile.

Lando watched her, his breath caught in his throat, his cock already twitching with renewed desire. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, the way she moved, the way she tasted herself, the way she looked at him with those eyes that told him she was far from done. “Jesus fucking Christ, you are so dirty,” he breathed, his voice filled with awe. He loved the way she cleaned herself, the way she sucked on her fingers, the way she looked at him with that smirk that told him she knew exactly what she was doing to him.

“You love this, don’t you?” she purred, her voice low and sultry as she slipped her fingers back into her pussy, scooping up more of his cum. She brought them to her mouth, her lips wrapping around them as she sucked them clean, her eyes never leaving his. “Being buried between my thighs like you fucking belong there.”

Lando groaned, his hands gripping her hips tightly as she teased him. “You’re actually trying to kill me,” he admitted, his voice shaking. He couldn’t believe how turned on he was, how hard he was again, just from watching her. His cock twitched, the sight of her tasting his cum driving him wild.

She smirked, continuing to clean herself, her fingers sliding in and out of her pussy as she sucked them clean, her eyes locked onto his. “You’re insane,” he breathed, watching her with a mix of disbelief and pure desire. “That’s the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

She slid off him. She laughed softly, finally satisfied that she was clean, her pussy still throbbing with need. She lay down on the bed next to him, spreading her legs in an inviting manner. "Now, baby," she purred, her voice filled with promise, "it's your turn."

Lando didn’t need to be told twice. He moved down between her legs, his hands gripping her thighs as he buried his face in her pussy. His tongue flicked over her clit, the taste of her making him groan. He loved the way she tasted, the way she felt, the way her pussy gripped his tongue as he slid it inside her. He loved the way she moaned, the way her hips rocked against his face, the way she pulled his hair, urging him on.

“You’re making me feel so fucking good, baby,” Y/N moaned, her hands gripping his hair tightly as he devoured her. “Keep going.”

Lando groaned, his tongue continued to flicker over her clit, his hands gripping her thighs even tighter as he ate her out. 

“Shit, Lando—yes, just like that,” Y/N moaned, her hips grinding against his face as he sucked on her clit. “Suck on my clit, baby.”

Lando groaned again, he burying his face deeper between her legs. His tongue flicked over her clit with precision, teasing the sensitive bud before diving lower to trace the wet, swollen lips of her pussy. The taste of her was intoxicating—sweet, salty, and uniquely hers—and he couldn’t get enough. He swirled his tongue around her entrance, lapping up her arousal, the sound of her slickness filling the quiet room.

Y/N’s breath hitched, her hips instinctively arching toward his mouth as if begging for more. “Oh God, Lando,” she moaned, her hands tangling in his hair, urging him on. Her body was electric, every flick of his tongue sending jolts of pleasure through her.

He responded by sliding his tongue inside her, exploring her tight, warm depths with a hunger that matched her own. She gasped, her thighs trembling under his grip as he worked her with relentless intensity. His tongue moved in slow, deliberate strokes, teasing her clit one moment and plunging deep the next.

“Yes, just like that,” she breathed, her voice trembling with pleasure. Her fingers tightened in his hair, pulling him closer, deeper, as if she could fuse them together.

Lando moaned against her, the vibrations of his voice sending shivers through her core. He loved the way she tasted, the way she writhed beneath him, the way her pussy clenched around his tongue as if begging for release. His hands slid up her thighs, gripping her hips firmly as he devoured her with a fervor that left her breathless.

He paused for a moment, lifting his head to meet her gaze. His lips glistened with her wetness, a wicked smirk playing on his face. “You’re so fucking delicious, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. “I could eat you out all night.”

Her hips ground against his face with a desperate urgency, her thighs trembling as the pressure built inside her. “You’re gonna make me cum, baby,” Y/N moaned, her voice shaking with need. Her hands tightened in his hair, pulling him closer, deeper, her fingers threading through the strands as if anchoring herself to him. “Don’t you fucking stop.”

Lando’s tongue worked her clit with expert precision, flicking and swirling in just the right way to drive her wild. His hands gripped her thighs, holding her steady as her movements grew more frantic. He could feel her clenching around his fingers, her body trembling on the edge of release. The taste of her was intoxicating, he couldn’t get enough, lapping at her hungrily as she writhed above him.

“Fuck, Lando—yes, just like that,” she gasped, her voice breaking as the first waves of her orgasm hit her. Her body convulsed, her hips rocking over his face with a wild, unrestrained rhythm. She was losing control, her moans growing louder, more desperate, as her clit throbbed under his relentless tongue. “Oh God, I’m cumming—fuck, I’m cumming!”

Her thighs clamped around his head, her nails digging into his scalp as she gripped his hair even harder, pulling him even closer as she rode out her orgasm. Her pussy pulsed, her tight walls clamping down as her release washed over her in overwhelming waves. She could feel every flick of his tongue, every vibration of his moans against her sensitive flesh, sending shockwaves of pleasure through her.

Lando groaned against her, his own body trembling with the intensity of her reaction. He loved the way she came undone on his tongue, the way her hips moved frantically over his face, the way her hands pulled his hair as if she needed him to anchor her. He loved the taste of her, the way she coated his tongue with her arousal. “Fuck, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice muffled against her. “You’re so fucking perfect.”

Her body shook with the force of her orgasm, her hips still grinding against his face as she chased every last bit of pleasure. Her moans were loud, unrestrained, her voice trembling as she cried out in ecstasy. “Oh God, Lando—fuck, I’m still cumming,” she gasped, her thighs trembling around his head as her release continued to wash over her. “You feel so fucking good—don’t stop, don’t stop!”

Lando didn’t stop, his tongue flicking over her clit with relentless precision, drawing out every last shiver, every last moan. He loved the way she responded to him, the way her body quaked with pleasure, the way her hands stayed tangled in his hair, pulling him closer even as she came apart. “That’s it, baby,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “Cum for me. Let me taste all of you.”

Her orgasm seemed to go on forever, her body trembling with the intensity of it, her pussy pulsing as she rode out the waves of pleasure. When she finally collapsed back onto the bed, her chest heaving, her thighs still trembling, she was utterly spent. “Fuck, Lando,” she panted, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’re fucking incredible.”

Lando smirked, lifting his head to meet her gaze, his lips glistening with her wetness. “I told you,” he said, his voice filled with satisfaction. 

But there was no time for words—his cock was already rock hard again, throbbing with an ache that demanded to be buried deep inside her. He could feel every inch of it straining, veins pulsing under the sensitive skin, the tip slick with pre-cum as it twitched impatiently. His breath was ragged, his body burning with need, and the way she looked at him—eyes filled with desire, lips parted, her chest rising and falling—only made him harder. He wanted her. Needed her.

He positioned himself between her legs, his hands gripping her thighs as he guided the tip of his cock to her entrance. Her pussy was glistening, swollen and wet, the sight of her arousal making his cock throb even more. He pressed against her slowly, the head of his cock spreading her open, and they both groaned as he slid inside her, inch by inch. Her pussy was so tight, so warm, the walls clenching around him as if they were made to fit him perfectly. She gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders as he filled her completely, his cock buried to the hilt.

For a moment, he stayed still, letting her adjust to him, savoring the way her pussy felt around him—soft, but so tight, gripping him like a fist. He could feel every pulse of her arousal, the wetness coating his cock as he held himself deep inside her. Her pussy felt perfect, like it had been waiting for him all this time, and the thought sent a jolt of pleasure through him. “Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, his voice shaking. “You feel so fucking good.”

She moaned, her hips shifting slightly, and he could feel her walls tightening around him. “I can feel you,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I can feel every inch of you inside me.” Her pussy was so sensitive, every movement of his cock sending waves of pleasure through her. She loved the way he filled her, the way he stretched her open, the way his cock throbbed inside her, making her feel so full.

But she didn’t want slow—she wanted more. Her nails dug into his hips, her voice pleading. “Fuck, don’t tease me. Give it to me like you mean it.”

Lando hesitated, still worried about being too rough, but she wasn’t having it. “Lando, I don’t want slow. I want you to fuck me like you can’t get enough of me.” Her voice was desperate, her hips grinding against him, urging him on.

He started to move, his cock sliding in and out of her with slow, deliberate strokes. Her pussy clenched around him, the wetness making every movement smooth and effortless. He could feel her walls gripping him, the warmth of her arousal making his cock throb. “You’re so fucking tight,” he groaned, his voice rough with desire. “I can feel how much you want this.”

But slow wasn’t enough for her. “I’m not some delicate thing, baby. Fucking break me,” she begged, her voice shaking. Her nails dug into his back, pulling him closer, deeper. “You feel so fucking good, but I need more. Give me more.”

Lando’s control snapped. He grabbed her hips, slamming into her harder, faster, his cock going in and out of her with a rough rhythm that had her crying out. Her pussy clutched him tighter, the wetness making every thrust slick and smooth, her walls squeezing him with every movement. He could feel her arousal coating his cock, the warmth of her pussy enveloping him, making him groan with pleasure. She was so wet, so tight, and the way her pussy gripped him was almost too much to bear.

“Fuck, just like that… but harder. Make me scream for you,” she moaned, her voice trembling. Her hands gripped his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin as she rocked her hips against him, meeting every thrust with equal fervor. He could feel her pussy tightening around him, her walls throbbing with every movement, and the sensation drove him wild.

“You can be rough with me. I want to feel everything,” she gasped, her voice desperate. His cock was hitting her in all the right places, every thrust sending jolts of pleasure through her. Her pussy was so sensitive, the friction of his cock inside her making her feel like she was on fire. 

Lando’s pace quickened, his cock slamming into her with a force that had her moaning loudly. Her pussy was soaking wet, every thrust making her walls clench around him, the wetness coating his cock as he fucked her. He could feel her pussy gripping him, the warmth of her arousal making his cock throb with every movement. “I want you to fuck me so hard I forget my own name,” she panted, her voice shaking.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against her ear. “You’re mine, Y/N,” he growled, his voice rough with desire. “Only mine.” His thrusts became more erratic, his cock plunging into her with a wild rhythm that had her crying out. He could feel her walls throbbing around him, her arousal making every movement slick and smooth.

She grabbed his hand, dragging it to her throat without a word. He hesitated for a moment, but she moaned when he tightened his grip, her nails digging into his back. “You like this, don’t you?” he whispered, his voice low and rough. “You like when I take control.”

She moaned, her voice muffled by his hand on her throat. “Yes,” she gasped. “Make me yours, Lando. Fuck me like I belong to you.”

The gesture—her moving his hand to her throat—was so unexpected, so fucking hot that it made him lose control. He tightened his grip slightly, his thrusts becoming even more erratic, his cock slamming into her with a force that had her moaning loudly. She loved the way he took control, the way he made her feel so vulnerable, so completely his.

But then, when his hand moved to her clit, she slapped it away. “Watch me, Lando,” she whispered, her voice filled with mischief. She reached down, her fingers brushing against her clit as she started to rub herself. Her head fell back, her eyes fluttering shut as she moaned. “You like seeing me like this, don’t you? So needy, so fucking wet for you.”

Lando couldn’t take his eyes off her. The way she touched herself, the way she moaned, the way her pussy clenched around his cock—it was driving him wild. “Fuck, Y/N,” he groaned, his voice shaking. “You’re so fucking sexy.”

She smirked, her fingers moving faster. “I want to feel you deep inside me while I make myself come,” she panted, her voice desperate. She was so close, her pussy tightening around him, her walls throbbing with every movement. “Fuck, Lando… keep watching me. Don’t look away.”

Her orgasm hit her suddenly, her body convulsing as she came, her pussy clenching around his cock with a force that had him groaning. “Fuck, Y/N,” he gasped, his voice shaking. “You’re so fucking tight.”

She panted, her body trembling as she rode out her orgasm, her fingers still moving against her clit. “Let me ride you,” she begged, her voice trembling. “Let me make you come.”

Lando didn’t need to be told twice. He flipped them over, letting her straddle him. She sank down onto his cock, her pussy still throbbing from her orgasm, and started to ride him with a wild, unrestrained rhythm. 

Her hands pressed firmly into his chest, nails digging into his skin as she rode him with a wild, unrestrained rhythm. Y/N’s hips moved with a ferocity that left Lando breathless, his hands gripping her waist tightly to steady her. He had imagined her sweet, slow, and tentative, but she was bouncing on his cock like she was trying to break him. Her pussy gripped him with every downward stroke, the tight, wet heat of her walls clenching around his length in a way that made his thoughts blur.

Her tits bounced inches from his face, jiggling with every frantic movement of her hips. The sight alone had Lando groaning, his hands moving from her waist to cup her breasts, kneading them roughly as she rode him. She moaned, her head thrown back, her hair cascading down her back in a wild, tangled mess. "Cum for me, baby," she panted, her voice dripping with desperation. "I want to feel you spill inside me."

Lando’s cock throbbed inside her, the sensation of her pussy squeezing him so tightly making it impossible to hold back. "Fuck, Y/N," he groaned, his voice rough and strained. "You’re not even giving me a chance to breathe."

She smirked, her hips never slowing as she leaned forward, her tits practically smothering his face. "You love knowing I’m not as innocent as you thought, don’t you?" she teased, her voice laced with mischief. "You love knowing I can fuck you just as good as you fuck me."

Her pussy felt incredible—welcoming, tight, and dripping wet. Every time she rose and fell on his cock, he felt her walls grip him, the sheer wetness of her making every movement slick and smooth. Her inner muscles pulsed around him, as if they were milking him for every drop. For Y/N, his cock felt like fire, stretching her open, filling her completely, the thick length of him hitting every sensitive spot as she rode him. She could feel every vein, every throb, every inch of him inside her, and it was driving her wild.

She leaned back, her hands finding the headboard behind her, and used it as leverage to fuck him even harder. Her tits bounced wildly in his face, the nipples hard and begging for attention. Lando reached up, pinching and tugging at them, making her moan as her hips moved faster, slamming down onto him with a force that had him groaning.

"Have you ever been fucked like this before?" she asked, her voice teasing, though she already knew the answer. She could feel him shaking beneath her, his cock throbbing inside her as he struggled to keep control.

"Fuck, no," Lando admitted, his voice trembling. "No one’s ever made me feel this good."

She smirked, slowing her movements just enough to lift herself off his cock completely, leaving him empty and aching. She made him watch as she sank back down onto him, the slow, deliberate motion driving him crazy. Her pussy stretched around him, the wetness making everything slick and effortless, and she moaned as she took him to the hilt.

"You like watching me take you, don’t you?" she whispered, her voice low and sultry.

"Baby, don’t play with me like this," Lando groaned, his hands gripping her thighs tightly. "I’m barely holding on."

She laughed softly, her hips rolling as she leaned forward, her tits brushing against his chest. "Feel that, baby?" she purred. "How wet I am? All for you."

Her third orgasm began to build, a slow, steady pressure that started deep in her core and spread outward with every thrust. She could feel the ache growing, the tension coiling tighter and tighter as she rode him. "Lando, I’m gonna cum," she gasped, her voice shaking. "Fuck, I need you to fill me up."

His hands tightened on her hips, his cock throbbing inside her as he struggled to keep control. "Let go, baby, let go," he pleaded, his voice rough. "I need to feel you cum around me."

Her orgasm hit her suddenly, her pussy clenching around him with a force that had them both crying out. "Shit, baby, I’m cumming!" she screamed, her body trembling as the waves of pleasure crashed over her.

Lando groaned, his own release following almost instantly. "Fuck, yes, baby, cum for me," he gasped, his cock pulsing as he spilled inside her, filling her completely. "Shit, I’m right there with you."

Her pussy felt incredible to him—warm, tight, and throbbing as she came around him. For Y/N, his cock felt like heaven, the thick length of him stretching her open as he filled her with his cum. She could feel the warmth of his release pooling inside her, making every movement of her hips even more sensitive.

"I’m so fucking full, baby," she panted, her voice trembling. "Oh my God, I can feel you filling me up."

Lando groaned, his body shaking as he buried himself deep inside her. "I’m not pulling out, baby," he admitted, his voice thick with satisfaction. "Fuck, I need to fill you up."

She collapsed onto his chest, her body trembling as they both came down from their high. Her pussy still pulsed around his cock, the aftershocks of her orgasm making her shiver. "I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to let you go after this," she whispered, her voice soft and sated.

Lando chuckled, his hands gently stroking her back. "Good," he murmured, his voice filled with promise. "Because I’m not going anywhere."

Y/N leaned in, her lips brushing against his in a tender, almost innocent kiss—a stark contrast to the way she’d just destroyed him moments ago. Her soft, sweet mouth moved over his, soothing and gentle, like a quiet reminder of the girl he thought he knew. But as he kissed her back, his mind reeled, still trying to reconcile the softness of her lips with the filth she’d just unleashed on him. She’d taken him apart completely, shattered every expectation he’d had about her, and now here she was, kissing him like nothing had changed.

Lando’s hands slid up her back, pulling her closer as he deepened the kiss, savoring the warmth of her lips and the taste of her lingering on his tongue. She was a paradox, a beautiful, maddening contradiction—all sweet innocence and untamed desire. How had he not seen this side of her before? How had he ever thought she was just Oscar’s sweet little sister?

When they finally broke apart, her lips curved into that wicked smirk he was starting to adore, her eyes gleaming with something unspoken. He stared at her, breathless and utterly ruined, and realized with startling clarity that he’d never really known her at all. And somehow, that only made him want her more.

[superhoeva]

i think we need to make jack abbot the nastiest freak in the entire world

𝐣. 𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐨𝐭 – 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐲 (𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭; +𝟏𝟖) | this got out of hand. god forgive me. warnings are that this is all porn and no plot, very gross, language, dirty talk, lots of bodily fluids, squirting (!), pussy slapping, fingering (f receiving), oral sex (m + f receiving), 69, overstimulation, jack being the "nastiest freak in the entire world, very very mention of robby x reader (literally a sentence). minors dni!

“Now, what’s this here all about? S’pose to be watching a movie and you’re too busy soaking my favorite panties…”

Jack mumbles the accusation like he hasn’t been snogging at a spot just below your ear, and pressing at your clit for the past twenty minutes. No matter how sweet you whine or gentle you squirm, he’s got you trapped atop the mattress, hand between your legs while his other arm hooks around your shoulders to keep you still.

“Fuck the movie,” you groan out, finally finding the room to grind your hips into where his fingers have slipped past the waistband of your shorts and underwear. You aren’t allowed very long to sit in the warm pulse as it spreads, Jack rescinding the pressure the pinch lightly at you swelling pearl. “Ah.”

The man chuckles at your squeal, tongue flicking the shell of your ear before dragging down to lap at your neck. He sucks in a hiss after a few licks, not noticing the hand you're snaking to the thick bulge at the crotch of his sweatpants until you squeeze the girth and release a breathy moan.

He tilts his head so he can look you in the eyes as your hand drags up and down, gripping him. You both hold the stare, hot and unafraid, just as Jack’s tongue snakes back out of his mouth and licks a long swipe across your bottom lip. He doesn’t stop until your mouth is slick with his spit before his lids finally shut so he can focus on curling his tongue to rake against yours. Jack sucks, consuming you, bucking into your palm.

“Grab the towel, baby,” Jack huffs, barely pulling away to give the soft command. He kisses where your eyebrows pull together with an entertained smile, nodding his head to the edge of the mattress.

Swiveling your head, there it is. The towel, folded up tight and waiting patiently. You turn back to Jack with blinking eyes, who’s still grinning at you. A few thick beats of silence pass before you grin back, pecking his chin and reaching for the fabric.

It doesn’t take long for Jack to get you settled. All he lets you do is watch as he diligently spreads the towel and moves the pillows, shifting on his side and patting the bed when he’s finally satisfied. “C’mere, gorgeous.”

You fit against him easy, and he slides off your shorts with even less trouble.

“Fuck me,” you hear Jack mumble to himself, his hand returning to your center and finding that you’ve completely ruined the thin layer of material. “Jesus, look at all that.”

Head against the pillows, you stare and buzz with poorly-concealed anticipation. You’re aching with a muddied throb, clenching around nothing as Jack peels your pantnies from your slit with a measured exhale. He doesn’t even look to see when he throws the garment as you automatically shift and spread your legs. So much for them being his favorite...

“How much you think you got in you tonight?”

Jack’s question is followed by him spitting at his fingers, and the sight of him freezes you into silence. His chest and biceps puff proudly in the simple t-shirt he’s sporting, a vein stretches up his neck like lighting, and his eyes are determined yet overcast with a haze of fervor. You swallow at his build, peeking down to catch a glimpse of where his cock sits completely solid and visible through the groin of his sweats. 

You know better than to reach for it now, but it doesn’t make the desire any less compelling. Head flooding with the image of his tip angry and leaking, shaft twitching at it pulses out a load, an involuntary whimper forces itself out of you.

“What was that?” Jack asks you, stare twinkling with satisfaction when your delayed response is interrupted by a silent scream. He studies you, tongue peeking out of his mouth while he slides two fingers knuckle deep inside you.

Your chest heaves when he immediately curls until the pads of his fingers knock right across your g-spot. You gasp, already arching from the bed as Jack massages the location with heavy strokes, thumb angling to frame steady circles around your clit. He pairs all of this with a dipping of his head to suck where your nipples pebble through your tank.

Not one care in the world does he give to the wet patches he’s forming across your shirt. His teeth nip at your bust, and your chest hums with a dizzying thrum. His fingers continue to work you, your pussy strangling their thickness as Jack increases the speed with a grunt into your still-covered tits.

“Am I hittin’ that spot, baby? Did I find it?”

Fuck Jack because he already knows the answer to that question, but also Fuck, Jack because he keeps the pump of his fingers at a perfect tilt, his thumb hasn’t stopped its kneading of you either, and you’re damn near tears.

The electric feeling rooted just below your belly is blooming something profound. It sweeps across you, numbing out Jack’s groans and the squelches that sound every time he drives deeper inside you. You’ve oozed out a mess out along his fingers and palm, and you sniffle when a familiar urge starts its overtaking of you.

Jack drags his mouth back near yours, mumbling through the kisses he plants at the corner of your mouth.

“You’re almost there, aren’t you? Keep choking my fingers, just like that.” His demand barely reaches your ears, blood rushing past them and making you feel as if you’re under water.

Gasping in short breaths, you’re no longer able to control the volume of your moans, crying out a string of unintelligible words as your legs begin to shake with a new vigor You aren’t aware you’ve already started to surge, but Jack is well wise to each of the gushes that splash against his hand.

“Thaaat’s it,” Jack observes, biting his lip at your writhing and the blind clutch of his arm while you douse the towel beneath you. “That’s a girl. Keep going for me, alright? You got a few more in you, I know you do.”

Your gripping of the man does nothing to stop the pressure from rolling across you once again. The mewls you release are more slurred than the lasts, pussy pulsing as Jack orchestrates another round of impressive cascades of fluid from your hole. You whine and cry, tears dripping a layer of moisture across your cheeks before a wave of something different cruises over you.

There’s no leaking of liquid from you this time but rather a decorating of his fingers with a creamy mixture that makes Jack's mouth water.

“Christ, look at you,” the man breathes, completely captivated. “Make a man lose his mind with a pussy that leaks like that, baby.”

Jack waits until the meat of your lips stops clenching to drag his fingers out of your hole. He takes his sweet time removing them, making sure to mumble out something about how he isn't quite done with you just yet and you’re levitating.

He maneuvers, shuffling you to lean closer into his side. Your eyes crack open only just, still panting but reaching out for the fingers that had just hauled you across the world and back.

The breath that Jack inhales fills his lungs with a tight heat, staring with hooded lids when you open your mouth and engulf his middle finger. His jaw clenches at how your tongue swirls, cock straining almost painfully where it presses against your thigh.

“You gonna save some for me?”

Jack smirks at your slow nod, whispering out a quick good girl before licking a stripe up his palm. Your eyes stay met the entire time, working in tandem to clean his hand so close that your noses bump a few times. Moans tying together, neither of you stop until his skin only slightly gleams with the reminisce of you.

When his finger slides from your mouth, Jack tugs you in for a wet kiss.

“Sorry about your sheets,” you vocalize between kisses but you pout when he pulls away. He looks over you with squinted eyes, sighing as he returns to a lean on his elbow.

“...you’re joking, right?”

You don’t have enough energy to hide your smile, lips curling into a grin as you stretch your limp legs. You sag closer into Jack’s welcoming side, smile widening when you catch him rolling his eyes.

“Just for that, I should make you wash ‘em,” he deadpans, arm reaching back to fold behind his head. Somehow in your haze, he still looks a dream.

You give yourself a long moment to let your eyes dance across the entirety of him, head lulling away from his chest to get a better look at one spot in particular.

Jack manages to stay silent when you free his thick member from his sweatpants, though a long moan can’t help but seep out when you throw a leg over him and fold at the waist.

Maybe it's the twisting of your tongue around his tip, or the smell of your lingering mess that causes it. He decides it's definitely both plus the way you flip off the shirt he’d dirtied with his spit before bending once again. You fit in not more than two licks across of the veins on the underside of his cock and only pull one grunt from his chest before he tugs you backwards by the waist.

“Jack–”

You can feel his smirk as he drags you until you’re hovering over his face. 

“You’re my water, gorgeous… all my fuckin’ air,” he invokes, tongue reaching to kitten lick along your slit. Eyes rolling, Jack sinks you all the way onto his tongue, and groans at your taste. Swallowing whatever his sucking can gather, he partakes in the rare action of letting his eyes shut as he commences his devour of you.

Lips smacking messily, his sounds come out hoarse. They’re broken and nearing a desperation that rolls your stomach nicely. And despite how he’s reducing you back into a shaking mess, you still manage to circle a firm grip around his cock.

A weak thrust of Jack’s hips allows him to pump into your hand and his desired speed while still saving enough space in his head to flick over your clit at a furious pace. It’s when his tongue trades between dunking inside you and trailing back up to sweep at your still sensitive pearl that you flinch.

“Shit,” you declare shakily, hips rising just barely for a second to breathe. Jack just growls and circles his arms around your thighs without enough pressure to lower you back onto his mouth in record speed. “Ja-Jack, wait. I’m close–ah.”

“So am I, so don’t fuckin’ move again,” he grumbles with a slight strain. Sucking messily across your folds and inhaling you with a buried nose, he moves to plant his left foot against the mattress. Whining, you do as he says, remaining cemented to his mouth and slurping at his cock as best you can from when he has you.

You soon find that Jack wasn’t lying when he said he was close, as it only takes a few more short minutes of your sloppy, spit-slick sucking for him to detach from you with a loud groan that’s a mixture of several curses and your name.

“Yeah, right there.” There's a new wobble to his voice when you cup a hand under his balls to give them a gentle squeeze, cheeks hollowing with a little more pressure to really make him really feel it. “Right fucking there.”

You suck until you hear him hiss, pulling off with a pop and licking up the cum from his stomach that had missed your tongue. You end up warm with victory the way Jack has to take five seconds instead of three to catch his breath.

The warmth melts into a blistering heat when Jack regains his head, pulling you to sit up straight and properly ride his face. He helps with the grinding of your hips, one hand one your ass while the other plants onto your waist to guide you. Part of you worries that he isn’t getting enough oxygen with the way his pants have changed to heaves but you don’t dare pull away again.

Your palms find his chest as you approach another edge, mouth parted and voice mewling about how good his tongue feels when it pauses to jerk at your clit. Hips growing a mind of their own, the mattress starts a patterned squeak beneath the both of you as you desperately chase the crest of your peak.

Jack holds you as your vision goes white. You’re unable to breathe as another stream of your juices sloshes out, crashing against Jack’s mouth and face. He moans along with you, gladly swallowing down each drop that has the pleasure of finding his tongue.

With one last splash, you wrench yourself away from his lips and huff. Jack sniffs, not bothering to wipe his face before he kisses along the swell of your ass. Stubble scratching across your skin, he eyes your syrupy hole and grins to himself silently.

Three times is nothing to hang his head at, not with the way you were slurring out his name… even if he did miss Robby's record with you by two.

© 𝐬𝐮𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐞𝐯𝐚

[kirbmey]

⠀⠀ ཐི ˚̣̣̣ ⠀⠀ husband!sylus x reader ⠀ ˚̣̣̣ ཋྀ

synopsis: where you sneak into sylus office looking for him cuz you miss him so so much! ε٩(๑> ₃ <)۶з

tw: fluff, sylus is called ‘husband’, reader is especially femenine and shy, usage of ‘kitten’, sylus smokes, he’s sickly in love!, etc.

you know you weren´t supposed to be walking around the house so late, but you were completely restless without your husband holding you tightly while you tried to sleep.

walking around the empty halls while heading to sylus office you yawn; you´ve been trying to sleep for a few hours now, even tried watching your favorite movie or holding your plushie while counting sheep but nothing worked.

so you were left with only one option, looking for him.

he stated a few times that you mustn´t disturb him while he worked, him being the busy business man that he is.

but that didn´t stop you from reaching the pome of the door, hesitant between wether you should open it or not.

once you made up your mind you swang the door open, peeking your head through the small gap to catch a glimpse of your beloved reading some documents while sipping on his favorite expensive wine. he was wearing those glasses you loved, also.

“just come inside, would you?", he stated, not even lifting his gaze to spot you standing in the middle of the room. he relocated his silver frame glasses on top of the bridge of his nose, scooting the big leather armchair aside so you could sit on his lap as you were accustomed to.

“i´m sorry, sylus, i just can´t sleep tonight." you mumble an apology while straddling him, hugging his broad shoulders and hiding your now blushed face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his manly scent.

“that’s okay, kitten. i was about to wrap it up here and go to bed with you, so impacient, aren´t you?" he teased with a low voice, chuckling when he heard you whine against his pale skin.

he left those documents aside, sipping the last drop of his wine and took off his glasses, placing them on the table. then, he grabbed you by the hips, holding you like a baby koala while he walked to your shared bedroom, feeling your breath slowly calm down.

he tucked your little body underneath the warm comforter, heading to the big glass window to open it and move the curtains aside, pulling out a pack of cigarettes and lighting one, sitting on his designated reading nook while staring at you.

puffing the smoke out the window so the smell wouldn´t linger inside the room, he took in every single detail about the scene in front of him; how you fell asleep so quickly in his arms, how you placed your head on his pillow, how your locks framed your face.

once he was done with the cigarette he brushed his teeth, taking note of the late hours. sure, he didn´t need to sleep, but drifting away while holding you was one of the best feelings in the world to him.

he was so in love with his little cherub (｡´ ‿｀♡)

a/n: been thinking about writing for arcane too idk idk (๑•́ -•̀)

— masterlist.

[achilles-rage]

Is She Mine?

summary: when buck left pennsylvania, he unknowingly left you there, pregnant with his child. four years later he runs into you and your daughter at the grocery store.

word count: 2.8k

a/n: another buck with a kid fic, another baby name from my baby name list used<3 if you don't like the name argue with the wall. someone gave me this idea months ago, but i can't find the ask, and i know birthmarks like that aren't hereditary or anything, but just pretend lol. anyway, enjoy<3

warnings: barely edited (sorry), reader has a daughter (obviously lol), no use of y/n, fem!reader, plus size!reader, race inclusive!reader

“Delia, come back here right now!” you whisper-yell down the grocery aisle, looking up right as you see your daughter disappear around the corner.

You’ve always been against kids on leashes, but lately, your three-year-old daughter has been single-handedly changing your opinion on them. You can’t take your eyes off of her for more than a couple of seconds before she’s gone; chasing after nothing in particular and probably talking to a random stranger or two along the way, if you know her at all.

You see flickers of her father in her; not merely in her appearance, but in who she is on the inside as well, and she’s never even met him. She’s extremely outgoing and talkative, and stubborn, and has a heart of gold. As much as you hate to see the painful glimmer of her father within her, it also makes you happy to think of your time with him.

You haven’t seen him since shortly after you realized you were pregnant. You were both in college in your home state, and when you took the pregnancy test, you couldn’t figure out how to tell him. You had ended up waiting too long, and when he told you that he was leaving to travel the world, you couldn’t stop him, as much as you wanted to.

You knew how miserable he was with his parents, and you couldn’t bring yourself to ruin his dreams. You knew all he wanted to do was get out of Pennsylvania, and you didn’t want to force him to stay with you just because you had done something stupid. 

You abandon your cart in the middle of the aisle and race after her, haphazardly pulling your purse up your arm as your eyes frantically look around you for a glimpse of her hair, or her light blue shirt. Or was it purple? God, you really need to start taking pictures of her before you go out with her, you think to yourself as your heart hammers in your chest.

Finally, you hear her loud giggle, and you let out a relieved sigh, following the noise and finally setting your sight on her curly hair and her blue shirt. Good to know you were right about that, at least.

“De, what are you doing? You can’t run away from m-” your words catch in your throat as you see that she’s talking to a man who’s bent down to her level and smiling fondly at her. 

When he turns and locks eyes with you, the smile drops from his face, and he stands up straight as his eyes travel down your body. His breath has been ripped from his lungs as he watches you pick up the little girl and set her on your hip, but before either of you can speak, your daughter squeals excitedly in your ear.

“Mommy, he’s got dots, too!” Her tiny hand shoots out toward his eyebrow, pointing at the birthmark above his eye, and you nod slowly, eyes still focused on Buck. Your sweet girl is completely oblivious to the tension between you and Buck; all she can focus on is that this random man at the grocery store has the exact same birthmark as her.

“Buck,” you breathe in disbelief, watching as the realization dawns on him. He knows exactly what he just heard. Mommy. And unless he’s suddenly extremely bad at math, he knows exactly what this means.

His eyes dart between you and your daughter, now seeing the mix of your features on her face. She has your eyes, and her hair is the exact same, but she also has his bright smile, and his nose, and of course, the same birthmark above her eye.

“Is she-” he begins, trailing off as he shakes his head. He’s trying hard to wrap his head around this situation, and the only thought running through his mind is why the hell didn’t she tell me?

“She’s three,” you reply softly, unable to bring yourself to say the real truth. He’s not stupid; you know you shouldn’t need to, and you don’t want to say a thing around Delia, anyway. 

“Why didn’t you-?” he begins again, but you cut him off, keeping a firm grip on your daughter as she wiggles around in your arms.

“You were miserable in Pennsylvania, I couldn’t make you stay,” you explain, your throat feeling tight as you feel all the emotions you’ve been shoving deep down for the past four years fighting their way to the surface again.

“You wouldn’t be making me stay, if I knew, I would’ve wanted to stay. You know that,” he tells you, brows furrowed. 

He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about you since he left. Leaving you in Pennsylvania was the hardest thing he’s ever had to do, but he knew how important it was for you to graduate, and he couldn’t ask you to leave with him and throw away your own dreams for his. 

Now, looking at you, and the little girl in your arms, his heart feels heavy. He feels guilty for not being there for you for four years. He wishes that he never left.

“And I wasn’t miserable. I had you,” he continues, his fists clenching at his sides as he watches his daughter wrap her arms around your neck and rest her little head on your shoulder. He wants more than anything to hold her, but she has no idea who he is, and that causes a pain in his chest.

“I’m sorry. We were young, and I didn’t know what to do,” you explain, guilt filling your belly. In hindsight, you know you should’ve told Buck; he had a right to know, but you didn’t know what to say.

“Well, I can’t just forget about this now. I can’t just go back to not seeing you, not seeing her,” he says, his tone pleading as he looks down at your daughter again, his eyes soft as he takes in her drowsy eyes.

“Delia,” you tell him with a small smile, tilting your head to the side and resting your cheek against the top of her head.

He smiles too, and you think you see tears forming in his eyes as he nods, then clears his throat.

“Delia,” he whispers. “She looks just like you,” he continues, louder this time. 

You laugh softly, shrugging as you squeeze Delia tighter to you. You’re thankful that she’s been quiet while you talk, clearly tired after a long day at the park, and then running errands.

“I think she looks like you,” you reply, and he chuckles softly, feeling a sense of pride fill his chest. He can’t believe he hasn’t been there to see his little girl grow up, and that you’ve had to do this all alone.

“Please let me see you again. Please.” You smile at his words; you knew Buck would want to help out as much as he could if he ever found out. You feel guilt eating at you as you see the longing in his expression, but this feels like a second chance, and you don’t want to cut him off again.

“Okay. But, can I call you later? I should get her home and ready for daycare tomorrow. We shouldn’t really talk about this here, anyway,” you say quietly, gesturing down to Delia. She may only be three, but she understands a lot, even in her sleepy state, and you don’t want to confuse her before you know what this is.

He nods quickly, then gives you his phone to get your number, and when he has it, you say goodbye before you go your separate ways. 

Your daughter waves haphazardly at Buck as you walk away, and you can’t help the grin that makes its way onto your face. She’s asked about her father before, and you never quite knew what to say. Maybe now she’ll actually be able to have the father she’s always asked about. The one that you’ve longed for for the last four years.

Later that night, when Delia’s in bed, you call Buck and set up a day for him to come over to spend the day with you two. You both agree not to tell Delia who he really is, at least not right away. First, you’ll just get her used to him, and then you’ll cross the next bridge when you get to it.

You weren’t at all surprised when the first time Buck showed up on your doorstep, Delia welcomed him in with a bright smile, grabbing his hand and bringing him into the living room where all her toys were scattered around. You weren’t surprised when Buck sat right down with her and played with her all day, either, only stopping for snack breaks.

Anything she would ask for, he would do, whether it was playing hide and seek, or painting with her, or throwing her up in the air as many times as she wanted while playing what she calls “rocket ship.”

Eventually, his afternoon visits ended up ending later and later, and you’d sit on the couch and talk long after Delia went to bed. You missed hanging out with him, and seeing him being so good with Delia had you falling for him all over again. 

It wasn’t hard to see that he felt the same; you could see the way his eyes wandered down your body, or down to your lips when you were speaking, but you never did anything about it. Your number one priority is Delia, and you don’t want to do anything too early and confuse her. 

One day, a few months after you had run into Buck, he’s sitting on the carpet with your daughter, holding two of her Barbie’s in his hands with furrowed brows as she explains to him who they are. You’re sitting with them, watching with a fond smile, when Delia stops, looking up at Buck quizzically.

“Are you my daddy?” she asks softly, her brows knit together in confusion as she eyes him.

Both you and Buck’s eyes widen, and your lips part as you try to figure out what to say. You knew this was coming, but you couldn’t figure out how to go about it.

“Why do you ask, sweetheart?” Buck finally says, tilting his head to the side as you watch them.

“Everyone at school has daddies. And, you love my mommy,” she explains, looking between the two of you. You tilt your head to the side and steal a glance at Buck, seeing the smile growing on his face. He meets your gaze for a second, raising a brow, and you nod once. You don’t know how this is going to go, but you want to try.

“Of course, I love your mommy. And I love you, too,” he assures her with a smile, bringing a hand up and tracing her chubby cheek with his fingers.

She smiles bashfully, tilting her head to the side, then stops for a moment, thinking. You can practically see the wheels turning in her head as she looks at the space between the two of you, spaced out, and then she looks back up at Buck.

“Will you be my daddy?” she asks, and your heart shatters when you see the nervousness in her eyes. Buck can feel tears forming in his eyes as he looks back into her eyes, and his heart somehow feels both full and empty at her words. He’s been hoping to eventually become Delia’s father for real, but hearing the uncertainty in her voice makes him want to hold her close and never leave her again.

“Yeah, baby, I’ll be your daddy,” he says after a moment, not wanting her to wait a second longer. He lets out a huff as Delia suddenly shoots up and launches herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and settling into his lap with an elated giggle.

“I love you, daddy,” she says breathlessly, nuzzling into his neck and squeezing him hard. You watch with a smile, tears forming in your own eyes as you see a tear slip down Buck’s cheek.

“I love you, too, sweetheart,” he whispers, his voice shaky as he hugs her close to his chest.

He’s always wanted a family, and now that he has this one, he never wants to let it go. He just can’t believe he missed out on the first three years. He’ll have to make it up to his girls, he thinks to himself.

“I’m gonna go talk to your mommy for a second. We’ll be right back, okay?” he tells your daughter when she finally gets off his lap and goes back to playing with her Barbie’s.

When you’re both in the kitchen, and sure Delia’s distracted, Buck closes the space between you two, cupping your cheeks and bringing your lips to his in a passionate kiss. You hold his wrists as you kiss him back, caught slightly off guard but quickly regaining your composure as you move your lips in time with his.

When you finally pull back, you’re both out of breath, and he looks down at you with sparkling eyes, studying your face for a moment before bringing your foreheads together. 

“I want to be a real family. I don’t just want her, I want you, too.” he whispers, letting his thumb trace along your skin as he holds your face in his hands. You laugh in slight disbelief, then nod, letting a tear finally fall down your cheek. The last four years without him have been exhausting, and all you wanted was this, but you never thought you could have it. Except now Buck is standing right in front of you, telling you that he wants exactly what you want.

“I want that, too.” you tell him softly, then bring your lips up to his again, kissing him with newfound fervour. 

Your hands go to his chest, bunching up the fabric of his shirt and pulling him closer as you part your lips and let his tongue slip into your mouth, searching. He keeps one hand on your face as the other goes down to your hip, holding you flush against him as he tilts your head further up into the kiss, and a low groan escapes his throat as he feels your plush middle pressed against him. 

You finally have to pull away when you hear your daughter’s squeal from the other room; yelling a high pitched “daddy!” 

You both race to the living room, letting out sighs of relief when you see her sitting in the same spot on the carpet that you’d left her, with a cheeky smile on her face.

“Can we have ice cream for dinner?” You scoff, laughing softly as you shake your head. You’ve seen that sweet little expression before; she knows exactly how to ask for what she wants, but unlike Buck, you’re more used to having to say no.

“Yeah, we can have ice cream for dinner, baby,” Buck replies before you can, and your head snaps in his direction, your eyes narrowed. He hasn’t noticed your reaction, however, as he’s smiling fondly at Delia as she squeals excitedly and makes her way to him.

When Buck picks your daughter up in his arms and finally turns to face you, you can feel the sliver of anger slip away, seeing how Delia is looking up at Buck with a dazed smile; clearly happy about finally having her daddy. 

“You’re already wrapped around her finger.” you tease, and all he does is shrug, a smile plastered to his face.

“Happily.” he replies, then leans down and gives you a gentle kiss. You both laugh when you hear Delia’s fake sounds of disgust, and when you pull back, Buck throws her up in the air, then catches her.

“Hey, if I’m gonna be your daddy, you’re gonna have to let me kiss your mommy, that’s part of the deal.” he teases as he throws her up in the air, eliciting a high-pitched giggle from her lips. 

“Okay, okay, okay!” she gets out through breathless gasps, and when Buck hums in victory and lowers her back into his arms, he gives her a big, sloppy kiss on the cheek.

You watch with a grin, and you can’t believe that you lived for four years without Buck. But now that he’s back, you never want to leave him again.

notes: likes/comments/reblogs would be much appreciated if you liked this<33

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[screampied]

whiny toji was something i did know i needed till now🧍🏼‍♀️

now what about whiny sukuna👀👀 in his domain👀👀

-👁️

riding sukuna until he whines ★

warnings. fem! reader, unprotected, whiney sukuna, brief choking, praise, dirty talk, premature ejaculation, mdni.

“oh, fine. do your worst, brat,” the curse would snicker with a sly grin stretching against the very curvature of his crimson pink lips. he’s not taking you serious.

then again, it’s rare for the sukuna ryomen to ever take you, his precious favorite human serious. you enlighten him so to speak, he cherishes the time he spends with you . . including the moments where you’re entrapped with him in his own domain. you’ve never had the patience though, as you’re straddling his lap— you’re hovering over his leaky tip and his fangs poke out into a mere, wicked smile. “givin’ up now? what’s with the hesitation, little one?” and a hand of his runs down the sides of your waist, a smirk pulling against his lips once he hums in amusement. “scared ‘m gonna stretch you out like last time?”

“no one’s scared,” you reply with an eye roll, pressing a chaste kiss against his mouth. sukuna hums, multiple eyes flickering at you, taking in your beauty. a broad hand of his slings around your waist before giving it a tight squeeze. “just shut up ‘n lie back, ‘kuna.”

“not likin’ that attitude,” he grumps—crossing the upper part of his two arms before parting his legs. he was very beefy, the size difference between the two of you was almost adorable. another broad hand of his brings you closer, a hiss snakes from his lips as he feels your folds gradually swallow his frenulum. “but like i said, do your worst. i’ll be nice ‘n try not to fall asleep, heh.”

you were always annoyed with the smug, complacent smile that’s forevermore printed onto the curses lips. as you’re taking him down, it feels warm. he groans at the way your gummy walls easily clamp down against him.

easy, two of his hands grab onto your waist before he leans back against his throne. “you’re too cocky for your own good sometimes, ‘kuna,” and his eyes flicker at you. the nerve, he’d let you get away with saying almost anything to him.

the only reason why—simply because you were known as his favorite,

“and you’re too bratty for your own good,” he replies back with wit, the roughness in his tone making you throb. sukuna was so close to your ear, you inch closer until you’re met with his chest. perfectly toned pecs—soft toned pecs rubbing against your own, you can feel how perky his nipples were, brushing against the fabric of his cottony made kimono. inside his domain— it was dark, a mere scary glimpse of his own perfect little world. and yet, here he was sharing it with you. he sucks his teeth, your cunt holds him tight, refusing to let go and his head goes back. “my, perhaps you’ve missed me a lot more than you let on.”

so cocky,

with an eye roll, you lean in for a kiss— the demon returns it, a free hand of his wrapping around your throat whilst you’re taking him fully.

your hips start to sway, picking up a decent rhythm before you moan in his mouth. he skims a thumb down the aisle of your throat, feeling the vibrations that’s continuously flees from your voice. so harmonic, the sweet sounds you always made for him was a song he’d constantly listen to if he could.

“ugh,” he grunts, pulling away—a glimmering mixture of his own saliva departs away from your lips as he stares at you blankly. he’s almost in disbelief. with your arched hips in mere constant rotation, a raw groan rips from his lips. he finds it cute. the small prints of your fingers wrap around his throat, never once leaving eye contact. “you’re a kinky little girl today, huh. got no right choking m-me.”

sukuna’s voice falters all of sudden, he lets off a sharp gasp. the plump tip of his dick abruptly thumping against a specific spot deep inside of your swollen cunt. it hits it again, and again, and again,

he’s getting a bit sensitive. sukuna’s caught off guard—especially with how not only you’re choking him gingerly, but resuming to grind your sweet hips against him. so warm, you ride his lap like it’s your own personal throne. the middle parts of his back slumps against his royal seat as he gnaws on his lip. his breaths become significantly heavy and he already sounds like he’s running out of breath.

languidly,

your hips stutter against him—the hefty size of his cock rummages all through your pussy before you conceal yet another moan.

sukuna groans, feeling you lean up close to pierce the crowns of your teeth into the depths of his skin. lolling out your damp tongue, you savor the curses taste. he tastes sweet, almost salty but of course candied. a hand of his reaches near the outer cusps of your ass before a long nail of his carved light against your skin. moaning yourself, you seep your tongue canines into his neck to leave a mark and he grunts— yet this time, instead of his usual gruff tone that booms throughout his infamous, blood-curdling domain, for the first time in centuries or ever, sukuna ryomen whimpers.

it slips out of him easily, and oh is he embarrassed once he sees the dumbfounded expression of yours turn into straight smugness.

the whine spews from his ancient lips and he’s not fond of this feeling at all— he’s so deep into the very pits of your lower abdomen, making you feel every staggering inch of his cock and he sucks his teeth in desperation. a finger of yours slips through his kimono, trailing against his sculpted abs before you lean up close to him to whisper.

“aw,” you giggle with a hum shortly following, the rupture his dick makes within you almost gives your legs a good enough excuse to give up. running a finger down his undercut, you’re met with the meanest glare. “all that sass and you’re a whiny baby, sukuna,” and you thrust your hips against him further. the massive weight of his balls slapping back against your skin and he tenses up. broad shoulders raise before he whines again, although this time— it’s from feeling you kiss near the neglected corner of his lips. “who knew the king of curses could be a cute whiner.”

“s-shut up, mortal,” he groans, the sensitivity of his cock repeatedly thrashes against your g-spot. sukuna’s too caught off guard that he doesn’t even realize he ends up finishing early.. too early,

thick stringy ropes end up shooting into you, it’s warm and sticky. you pause your hips—relishing in the hotness of his spurts of seed that trickles its way into you. sukuna’s spasming out underneath you, it’s so cute to see. his jaw hangs open, the most lewdest whimpers leaving out of his throat before the veins that run within his bulky arms pulse. he’s seeing everything but the vision; the vision of you straddling his lap, staring into his eyes with that cheeky grin.

submissive sukuna,

you lean in to kiss him whilst he’s still dumping an entire gluey load of cum into you. such satiny ropes, he sloppily returns the favor, breath heavy and sheets of sweat pouring down the sides of his face. “goodness,” and his voice— it’s not as confident as it was, you hear a slight tremor in it and it’s cute. he’s still heaving, clingy walls continue to grip around him before his fangs nip at your bottom lip. “a-ah, got me soundin’ like a worthless p—”

“shh, baby,” you purr, and he’s like puffy folding in your hands. once cruel and sadistic eyes—now all droopy and full of heart eyes at your very expense. he calms down from the strokes of your hand against his face and he shudders, trying to pull into another kiss but you stop him. he whines again. “oh, does the demon want another kiss?”

he nods, that same cute grump of a scowl returning to his lips before he sighs. “give me a kiss.”

“not when you ask like that, ‘kuna,” you tease and his eye twitches, again— the nerve..

he feels the way his cum starts to ooze out between your thighs and he glowers at you. such a baby, you lean in to kiss his pout away and his arms go back to being crossed. “say pretty please.”

“perish.”

“fine kiss yourself,” you roll your eyes with a sly smile, preparing to make your way off the demons lap until he holds you tight. two strong arms grabbing you,

so clingy . .

with a scoff, he looks away—a cute tint rising to his face before he mumbles. “give me a kiss, pretty please.”

“that’s a good demon,” you giggle, slinging your arms around him before pressing him a soft, wet kiss. he whines at your taste, wanting nothing more than to savor it. his tongue curls against yours before he feels your hips start to pick up again. he moans, his left thigh twitching before your bouncing accelerates. he was still so sensitive, and yet here he was, like dough mending underneath you.

a while after, you pull away and he pouts— hiding his face into the very crook of your neck. sukuna snarls, nibbling against your skin before whining out a low, raspy, “i- i need a minute,” and he hides more of his sweetened whimpers into your neck. “don’t move. we’re gonna stay like this, f-fuck.”

[dilf-docs]

Darlin', Can I Be Your Favorite?

dbf!boxer pedro pascal x younger fem!reader

summary: it should be simple. helping your dad's best friend to train for his upcoming match in his hometown, chile. but turns out, world-renowned boxer the viper isn't just a menace in the ring.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (girthy), smut, p. in v., oral (m. receiving), rough sex, public sex, praise kink, humilliation kink, daddy kink (she's got daddy issues; idc if this is mischaracterizing you, you'll live), dom!pedro, use of pet names (doll/baby), some angst because that's my staple, idk shit about boxing my bad (i'm more of a ufc girlie kinda) so let's focus on the filth!!

word count: 5,874 words

side note: this very different albeit genius request got me a small hit tweet. song of choice for this piece i sped up because of my ovulation is favorite, by isabel larosa. there are several paragraphs in this that could be used against me and are proof i'm loosing my mind during this midterm/fertile week had to use a clint gif because freaky tales clint is so sexy might watch the movie on theatres with my legs open

You weren't new to this.

The small walls, dim light, the sweat, the blood... you were shoved into it. By your father, since you were a baby. Long before you could even walk, grabby hands trying to reach for a ring that seemed so far, the violence and the rage contained inside the quadrilateral.

So you grew up wanting it. The desire. The ichor. Rough and brutal.

You'd never step in, but always stood by your father's side. Until the age of boys, over-coated glossy lips and blooming girlhood arrived. Long gone where the days were you'd be next to your dad inside the dim-light place, now filled with car rides and girly laughter about all and nothing. You changed the sweat scent of the place for vainilla, and the oversized t-shirts for skirts that showed your laced panties if you bent.

The fights started then, but the ring became your home. Slut, he'd call you, saying this wasn't the girl he raised. Your mother would cry, tired of trying to stop the fighting that extended sometimes until late at dawn, when you'd show up on the doorstep, skirt torn apart and panties wet despite the dry summer.

The beast laid dormant inside you. That primal raw hunger; it never ceased to exist.

Now it was on your roaring voice, refusing to shut up and take the harsh language spoken by your own blood. It was on the defiance, cutting your clothes even smaller, pushing the wearable limit. On the way your makeup and manners got more scandalous, and how you'd throw your door louder each time another confrontation took place, the once lively home now a wrestle between two forces refusing to back down. But when you weren't with a bottle in your mouth or a guy in between your legs, you'd think of his hands grabbing yours as he showed you the gym around, introducing you to regulars. My little girl, he'd said proudly, and you would smile like he did. You'd grab the broken frame you once threw against the wall in a fit of rage, crimson imprinted over the photograph below the broken shards you tried to miserably put together again. Fucking failure. But it's impossible to piece what's already broken back together.

But you were still a believer, despite it all: the same girl who saw the magic in the beasts trapped within the cage, thunderous brutality in the place you once called your second home.

Maybe that's why you agreed to help your dad on this. To see a bit of that smile that had faded in time like the colors of the rust painted lockers. To hear a good girl praise. Not slut. To see a glimpse of the man who said he'd pass this place to you, useless now on his mouth as the gym crumbled just like your relationship. In the end, you were his daughter, begging to be seen.

And you were seen. Not by him. But by him.

The Viper. Pronounced in a whisper, because out loud sounded like a curse, bound to risk too much.

He had been a casual before, remembering his days when no facial hair adorned his face and he'd talk with your dad while laughing in a boasting sound, like he knew he'd break out in the scene. He did. And then he stopped coming, because he was too busy winning and living life than to return to a place that was falling apart.

But then your dad came rushing home, like he was to bear bad news. And boy, wasn't he? The leather, the greys now starting to take over his hair like the bad choices in the form of women and alcohol, ones that had once carried a bad boy charm which now had ripen into a sour taste, a lifestyle that belonged to the golden years left in a past long left behind. He didn't belong anymore, but refused to quit. The violence was a vice, and despite loosing everything, he had never lost a match.

"He wants to train" your dad panted out to your worried mother, who thought worst. "For a match, in Chile, his hometown. He talks about coming back"

Your dad may have been the first to know such, but not the last. No, because what started with a call late at night on your dad's old office (He had said Remember me, old friend? oscilating between nostalgia and teasing, and when your dad called his name, a soft incredulous Pedro? he had let out one of his victorious golden laughs, like coins falling down, as to let him know it was still him, despite it all), ended up on the news.

He's coming. He's coming. He's coming. Like a warning before the big bad wolf struck again.

In a way, you think, as he stands before you, he is one: the sharp eyes and bearing teeth. A fighter never backs down, and he seemed to be always in guard.

Hadn't recognized you at first, blinking a few times before a lazy and easy sleazy smile appeared on his face.

"This the same girl that asked me to carry her on my shoulders?" and a chuckle. "I think I still could"

A low, dangerous rich rumble. A dare. Challenging. Pedro didn't know you too had changed in many ways, and he certainly didn't know either you had touched yourself at night to the sound of his velvety voice, wrapping you up like the sweat that set your skin ablaze, a fist in your mouth to stop his name from slithering past your lips, image set on the way his eyes roamed over your woman body like an all too well trap he always falls in like a vice, trying to think if it was real or just another one of the troubles you loved to cause yourself.

But once you're deep, you can only go deeper.

Your dad left for Chile a day earlier, to set preparations you could care less, which is why you're here.

You promised not to fuck it up, seeing a peek of that man who swore to protect you from the cruel world outside. You needed this. Wanted this. When his lips parted but closed, many words hanging on the air coated with burnt cigars and sweat (I'm sorry. I'm proud of you. Don't dissapoint me. Don't break my heart. Don't fuck this up. I love you), you decided you'd do everything in your power to get your dad back.

The task was rather easy: help The Viper train before his big match in Chile.

Easy, if said man wasn't your dad's best friend, Pedro Pascal.

You feel like a voyeuristic freak watching from a corner as he pounds into the boxing bag repeatedly. Drops of salty sweat begin to run through his back, the white cloth now near transparent with how it sticks to his tan skin.

Pedro is big. All boxers were, seeing them coming and going from your dad's gym. But he was beefy. Not the slender and compact, but the huge thick type. The one were just his hands alone looked like he could snap your neck in two if he wanted.

You're supposed to be out there, helping him, but after your dirty little session two nights ago, and yesterday's dinner at your home, you're just not capable to meet him in the eye, despite promises to your dad and the fire to get his affection back.

(He had come over for dinner. Your mom made lasagna, your favorite dish of hers, but the plate went cold as you took in his words like an oil, spreading the grave tone that coated your panties like a second skin. You pressed your legs together, a shaky breath escaping past your treacherous lips when he said how much you'd grown, blaming the sauce when he licked his lips. Your parents stood up to collect the dishes, and then he leaned down and whispered: Ain't you become a doll?)

(It was nothing. It was just a man who knew your father and no better. But you didn't, either)

Last night, to erase the spell he seemed to have cast upon you, you went to one of your old friends while he beat himself up on the gym, where you were supposed to be. But when your orgasm washed over, you said his name instead; no cold shower could scrub away the humilliation.

(And the house still smelled like him. Bitter coffee, leather and sweat. It was salty and citric, up in your nostrils with an invasion that was, if not, fitting. You were obssesed, with the champion and the legend, and he was an old man looking for a fresh doe-eyed girl who could take it)

You gawk like a man would, but, how not? Dude too appeared to be hung. What is it they say about men with big noses, big hands and big thighs? Big. Big. Big. Fucking hell, you needed to be locked up.

"I know you're in there, baby" his voice cuts through the silence. It's night, and you should be locking up already, scarce customers long gone. "Was never good at hiding"

You emerge from the shadows, sporting only a small black short and a white tank top. He chuckles. With you, nothing is a coincidence.

"Some things never change"

He snickers, "but glad some do"

You breath in, getting closer to him. Again, his scent intrudes your senses, making you dizzy like a drug. Your circuits are busy, and his high.

"You were supposed to help me 'round here" he motions the place. But you're stuck on his hands, wrapped in tape. Those hands, brief peek of his tattoo hidden between the white. "What would your dad say, huh?"

His tone is devoid of malice and full of teasing, but your stomach churns.

"He'd say what he always says" he shots up an eyebrow, as if daring you to speak. "That I'm a fucking failure"

Pedro seems taken back by the sudden change in the atmosphere, nonetheless, still charged with unspoken uncertainty.

"Your dad?" like he couldn't connect the man he knew to the one he is now.

"How would you know?" comes out harsher than you intended, a shameful bitter taste in your mouth. "A lot has changed since you left"

A quiet rage settles in his eyes, the beast caged behind the enclosure begging to be let out.

"Why you throwing it on my face? I ain't your daddy"

It shouldn't hurt. This is ridiculous. But, hell, it does; you're nobody's daughter.

"Good you aren't my fucking daddy"

The silence washes over you at the same time the embarrassment does. You realize too late the words that left your mouth, and if you're quick to try to run, he's faster, your back pressed to the material of the hanging punching bag.

"Say it" he demands, "again"

Your face grows hotter by the minute. "I have no idea what you're talking about"

"First a terrible discreet and now a bad liar" his spit spurts in your face, each word with punctuation and a seethe. "Anything else?"

Yes. So much. You're drowning at this point, still not deciding if it's because of the smell his body is emanating or your heavy heart's fault. But he's the last person you'll tell all of this to.

"Not that it matters to you, anyway"

Yet, to an extent, it seems like he knows. As if he's able to see past the forced sweetness, the sarcasm and the layers of makeup and numbingly intoxicating vainilla. Pedro thinks at least he does.

So if you're on fire, he'll let you keep burning.

"I could be him, you know?" your ears start ringing at some point, and you're sure your heart stops. "I could be your daddy"

There's no going deeper than this.

"Thank God you aren't"

And it's like a slap to his face. The oh-mighty undisputed champion steps back. There is always a first, and maybe this is what loss feels like.

"Baby-"

Your ears keep on ringing as you move far from him, your heart dangerously close to leaping from your throat to the cold hard ground. Who does he think he is? He hasn't even been back for a day and has already found a way to break you from inside. To ruin you. As if he never left and has known every secret hidden between your ribs, his memory nestled since forever. But he's too picked apart your bones, in just a matter of seconds, biting down on the marrow of your deepest insecurities.

You hate him. You hate Pedro. You hope he looses, and you accept you've already lost your dad.

But then, as you realize your sat at the end of the gym, the worn out lockers on display, you have an idea.

With you, it was always about revenge, wasn't it?

The beast is awake, howling upon you. Ichor. Rage. This rotten girlhood that started with Malibu dreams and has ended on beds that reek of cheap whiskey and a quick fix in the name of forgetting.

"Pedro"

His head almost snaps looking in your direction. Not like he wanted to search for you to ask for your forgiveness. A match to mark his comeback and change his life will happen in just a couple of hours; he's got bigger problems than a girl who can't see things the way they are. He isn't an apostle of acceptance, but his wicked selfish nature finds pleasure in punishing you for his same sins.

But to play a game, you need two.

"In here" he answers, as if he hasn't moved since your little altercation.

"You need to shower" he catches in time the towel you throw at him. He chuckles dryly at your childish behavior. "You stink"

"You sure? 'Cause just a minute ago, it seemed you were into it" he's quick to quip, matching your energy.

That cocky motherfucker. So full of himself. You hate the sleazy smile of a winner. Does he think you're going down as easy as that?

Of course, you aren't blind. He's attractive, but is this worth it? You see his damp shirt and sweat drenched thighs. No. You look away, flustered.

"I think you need a break, old man. You're not who you used to be" you turn your back to him, so he doesn't see your red hot face, "seeing things that aren't real"

You start to walk to the changing room, and even if not spoken, there's an implication to follow you. So Pedro does, because it's night and Friday and he's got nowhere else to go.

He follows you into the locker room, but this isn't you.

Not the little girl who looked up to him like he could beat the whole world, hand in hand. Not the broken woman, who tried so hard to keep up a mask he could easily see through, maybe because it was akin to his own.

No. This is a fucking temptress. A siren call to drown.

"Sit"

He decided to be a boxer the day he knew he wasn't meant to be bent. The day he realized he hated being weak and wanted to always lead his own path. If it was through violence and punches, so be it.

But he's obeying your command, like a lap dog. If the change isn't noticeable enough, your wicked grin gives it away. He takes his place on the bench, sitting down with aching joints.

"What were you thinking?" you whisper.

A vein on his neck pops out aggressively at the remark.

"I can still handle it"

The way his voice drops to a lower octave, the scowl on his face prominent, like he's both offended and peaked in interest by your remark.

"Is that a challenge?" you tease, playfully. "I'm not your opponent, Pascal. Save it for tomorrow night"

Your fingers itch, and before you think about it twice, they're digging across the soft flesh of his broad back.

"What-"

You hush him almost instantly. "Let me"

You trace patters across the expanse of his hard planes, arousal pooling at the rough of his edges, the dry and scarred of his skin. It's also the sturdy built, what makes it harder to not... appreciate. You happen to be into appreciating the small things, that's all.

(But small, he definitely isn't)

"You're tired" you trace his worn muscles, lost in the way he seems to equally tense and relax under your fluttering touch. "Let me help you"

"What's this?" equally soft. A tattoo. But not the one's you've seen; you wonder if it is for your bad memory or because it's new. "Vae victis"

"Woe to the defeated" he's quick to answer. Taking your silence as a signal to continue, he adds. "It's a way to remember the ones I fight are people, not numbers"

If his voice carries a tinge of vulnerability, you must've imagined it.

"Never took you as the empath type" and your fingers leave his skin, as if it burns.

He lets out a soft humorless laugh.

"There's a lot you don't know about me, baby"

You don't let him have the last word, and to punctuate your final blow, you press a short kiss to the tattoo. He didn't see it coming-- your mint breath ghosting over his shoulder onto his face. Pedro forgets how to breath.

"I've always loved a good mystery"

Knockout.

He looks up from the bench, breathing still panting as he sees your retreating figure, until all that's left in the room is him and his worn-out body. Then, the soft pit-pat of the water hitting the tiles jolts him awake.

"It's ready" your voice says, but you're still there, and not back to the lockers.

Why were you preparing him a shower? It's not like he couldn't turn on the switch.

Pedro removes the towel from his neck and walks over to the showers, only to find you still there, white blouse as damp as his.

"What-"

"Get in"

He's about to repeat it, this time harsher and louder (Have you gone insane, woman?), but then your sweet persistent voice digs on his mulish character like a knife to a wound, and his reasoning has flown out of the window.

"You're gonna wet yourself" is all Pedro can manage to say.

The (possible) double meaning makes his belly rumble.

"I know" you repeat, answering for both. And then get inside.

The water starts to make your clothes hug your body, and he's lost in the curves of your ass and tits. Your muscles, while albeit not worked out, are both soft and strong, plush skin inviting for a bite. You've got both the firm and the soft that comes with age and womanhood, and his cock is itching to have his invite to your warm walls.

"What are you waiting for? Are you going to bath with clothes on?"

He rolls his eyes. "Look who's talking"

The cold water hits him when you too have taken off your clothes.

Couldn't get challenged because your too stubborn ass fell right into the bait.

His breath gets caught in his throat as your soapy hands explore his body. His adam's apple bobs as he gulps, enthralled by your firm yet gentle scrubbing, washing away remnants of sweat and dirt. All words are lost at the devotion, worship and reverance that seems to pour from your digits as you sweep his body.

"How?" your voice drowns out with the drops of water.

"Bad move" he whispers, seeing it across his arm. It's runs across almost all of his inner bicep, big. It didn't heal as good as he'd liked, but chicks seemed to dig it. "Had to go to the hospital"

You, however, seem more into the... understanding side of it. Not on the thrill and the danger, but on the damage that's healed in time but never left. More on the pain, and not the punch.

"And this?"

"Gloves"

"What?"

"Gloves" he repeats, still not that loud, as if he's ashamed. "They can create cuts when the skin is pulled during a strike"

"I don't get it"

And instead of mocking you, Pedro finds himself trying to explain it.

"It's because of the friction of the gloves against the skin" he sighs. "Was too dumb and too full of myself to understand it. Then it happened and I got this"

"What has changed?" you tease him, but it's as tender as a lingering touch. "Don't worry, Pedro. Everyone makes mistakes, even the greats"

It's a rather sweet moment, only broken by your teeth sinking into the scarred tissue, yet you're quick to soothe it with a wet kiss.

He groans, head falling back as your greedy little hands now slide through the hard of his chest, his nipples perked under the cold of the water and the warm of your touch; body electric.

"Fuck, baby. You're going to be the death of me" he groans, shivering at your insistence on making him break. "Keep tryin', but you won't make me beg, muñeca" (doll)

Still hellbent on denying you of himself, the hotheaded stubborn prideful bastard. Not even with your tits in the air, bare cunt aching.

"No?" you feign innocence, batting those wet eyelashes of yours. Then your lips find his scars, licking and pressing sweet warm kisses across the expanse of his chest and body, ending on the one across his face. For a moment, he falters at the intensity of your gaze, almost slipping on the tiles. "Still no?"

You fucking minx. "Fighters don't beg" he says, but every contact of your lips and tongue against his wet body send bolts of electricity to his aching semi-hard cock.

"But real men do"

Without further ado, you descend until your knees hit the tiles, water running through your legs like a river. You don't wait for an answer, all you need to know in his parted lips and his deep stare at you through dark hooded eyes.

A low, guttural moan tears from Pedro's throat as your tongue flicks a quick lick at his sensitive head. He's grabbing your hair with rough hands, tangling into your damp curls, his hips jerking involuntarily as your lips wrap around the tip, tongue swirling and teasing the most sensitive parts.

"Fuck" he groans, "aren't you trouble, doll? Really gonna make me beg for that release, ain't you? With that tongue of yours"

You give another proud lick at his throbbing angry red flesh, head already leaking with precum.

"What'd your daddy think about his daughter sucking his best friend's cock in the showers?"

You ignore him, too busy lost in the way his cock throbs and pulses in your mouth, his balls tightening with a pressure that built more each passing second.

"Not a talker, huh? Were that loud mouth of yours go?" he teases, his grip not faltering on your hair. "That's what y'r daddy said. Or maybe he was talking of another daughter. Not this little obedient slut who devours my cock like she's starved" his voice is strained. "Such a good girl, though, taking care of an old man like this. You like how it tastes?"

You pull out, making him groan.

"Why'd stop?" his voice is strained, rough with desire. His pupils are blown wide, circling with desbelief and something more primal. But he'll never say that, will he?

Too bad for him, you don't know when to shut up. Or quit.

"I want to hear you say it"

He chuckles darkly, his grip on your hair tighter now. "What'd say?"

"Me? Nothing" your lips part, words slurring before you think better. "You is I wanna hear"

"Fucking cunt" his eyes darken, "think you can tease me and get away with it? No, you'll be a good little cocksleeve and take it all"

You moan at his lewd words, thighs clasping together in search for some relief for the pressure building on your bare cunt.

"That's right, you dirty cocksucker. Look at you, thinking you can bend a fucking champion like me"

He knew his power over you. Frankly, he had to thank your old man for fucking you up so bad. Pedro loved how all your resolute seemed to vanish in the air, looking so eager and willing, desperate to please him. Be it for praise or for how much you wanted this like him, but it is this what makes him feel like a true winner.

"Don't you wanna suck this dick so bad?" his thumb tugs down your lip, "Be a good girl and I might give it to you"

Just like that, you're done.

"Please, I want to be a good girl. Use me, fuck me with your mouth"

He lets out a growl, voice low and rough. "Oh, t's alright, muñeca. I'll use this dirty little mouth of yours, all right" he fists your hair again, pulling you closer. "Gonna fuck you so good, you'll be feeling me all week: every time you taste, swallow and speak. Fill your dirty mouth so good with so much cum, you'll be tasting it for hours, for days, 'n for the rest of your fucking life"

Pedro thrusts his hips forward, pushing more and more of his thick, hard cock past your lips. He sets a steady pace, eyes locked on your face as he fucks your mouth with deep strokes.

"Just like that" he praises, breaths sharp as he looses himself in how his girth is nestled in your mouth. "Take it all, like a good little girl. So show me, baby, show me how much you love the taste of my cock. How much you need it-- crave it"

Your moan gets lost in your constricted throat, struggling to take him deeper, breathing and swallowing almost impossible with his girth taking up all of the space inside of your mouth. If Pedro felt like a king before, now he feels like a god.

"Such a perfect little cock sleeve for me to use, to fill, to fuck" he groans, his hips picking up speed, thrusts growing harder and more urgent.

His orgasm starts building, and he knows it by the way his balls tighten and his cock pulses inside the heat of your throat. Pedro knows he's close to coming, that he's seconds away from it.

Even if he's lost completely in the act, he's foremost a gentleman, but when he's about to pull out, your hands grip tightly to this thighs, and hold him in place as he tries to move. A rush of lust washes him over the cold water, a dark desire coursing through him at your pathetic display of eagerness and desperation.

"Fuck, baby" Pedro's voice reduced to a low, guttural rumble as he gazes down at you. You swear you can see a brief glint of admiration on his eyes. "You want my cum that badly, muñeca? Do you want to swallow it all down like a good little slut?"

He's rocking his hips forward, burying himself balls-deep in your warm throat, his swollen cock pulsing and throbbing against your tonsils as his orgasm crashes over him. Pedro throws his head back as so do his eyes, body shuddering and convulsing as thick ropes of hot cum shoot from his cock.

"You're doin' great, baby" he pants, his grip on your hair tight as he grounds his hips against your face, pushing himself deep into your mouth as he physically could. "Show me what a good little cumslut you are and don't waste a fuckin' drop. Swallow it all"

Aren't you perfect? Gulping and swallowing, trying your best good girl shtick as you take everything he has to give you, his musky sweat filled scent up your nostrils, despite the soap still covering some of his body.

"Fuck, y/n" he groans, body going limp. He falls back against one of the shower's walls, chest up and down with uneven breaths. "Greedy little girl with a greedy little throat"

He slowly pulls out of your mouth, his softening cock slipping from your lips.

"Get up, baby. Your father's bill will be brutal if we don't hurry up" he hauls you up and into his arms. "But truth is, I'ont give a fuck. I'm still thinking 'bout your lips 'round my cock"

Before you say anything, he's dragging your body again like you weight nothing, but this time, it's to crush his hot desperate mouth into yours with a rough kiss. Pedro can taste himself mixed with your sweet and drool. He groans at that, the sound painfully animal.

"Hey" he gently tugs you, a mannerism you would never associate with him. "Where you think you're going?"

You blink once. Twice. Then again, slower.

"What are you talking about?"

Your back meets the wall, Pedro brutally slamming your body until the tiles dig into your skin.

"Ow- wait" you hiss, "the fuck's gotten into you?"

"Think I'll let you go after this?" he growls. Then, chuckles, darkly so. "No, baby. I gotta try first" his fingers grab the supple skin of your ass until you feel them melt into it. He then spanks it, creating a weird sound with the combined water droplets. "Need to see if the pussy is as sweet as your mouth. So be a good girl and let me handle this, alright? As I said, I still can"

And for a reason, that feels like a threat.

His calloused digits venture dangerously close to your entrance, fingers going in. He coats it with your slick, making him laugh that laugh uniquely his.

"Fuck, muñeca. You're as wet as this shower head" Pedro presses himself into you, his cock touching your stomach. "Don't ever try to lie to me again, I ain't no fool"

Traitorous body. But his seething voice, the way his dominance slithers into jolts through your slick folds. You whine, pressing your tighs together. Pedro's quick to see this, and before you get to say anything else, he parts them roughly.

"I said I ain't no fool" he grunts while rubbing the tip of his cock over your folds, applying pressure on your clit. "Bad girl"

No warning, just his cock slipping past your wet dripping folds. Your hands fly to reach his neck for support.

"S'fucking grabby" he teases, slipping his pulsating dick between your folds once more, pressing and then pushing in slowly.

He swallows your whimper in a kiss, your poor pussy stretching to accommodate his thick girth. His big hands pull your body closer to his.

"But I'm the grabby one"

He growls. "Quit talking"

With one brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt, balls pressed against the flesh of your ass. You grip his hair, chocolate curls tangled between your fingers. He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours. The pain carries waves of pleasure laced within, despite his aggressive thrusting and quick pace. You roll your hips upwards, eliciting a faint whimper out of your lips.

"No, doll" his fingers dig in your waist, a purple soon to follow. "You do what I say, clear?"

His cock grinds forward, stretching you out.

"Fuck-!" you choke out, "Pedro!"

He growls when he hears his name on your lips, an all consuming desire to make you his washing over him.

He then grabs you by your legs, hooking them around his waist.

You mewl out his name in a cry.

"See?" Pedro blurts out. "Told ya' I still had it on me, baby"

Your hands scramble to grab him by his shoulders, the pain and pleasure making your head spin. He can feel your tits jump with each bounce provoked by his thrusts, the rosy skin pressed against his chest.

"Gonna fill you up so bad, you won't ever doubt me again"

Pedro pulls back and uses his arms to push himself up and hover over you. He began to drive his hips faster, loud clapping noises mixing with the falling water.

"I'm- I'm gonna"

"Ask, baby. Remember what I told you?"

"Yes. Sorry, daddy" you whimper. "Please, let me-"

"Let you what?" Pedro chuckles.

"Cum. Let me cum. Please, daddy, please" the words slurred as you feel yourself on edge.

"Very well" grinning satisfied, "but don't you dare keep any of those pretty noises just for yourself"

A high-pitched wails falls past your lips as you throw your head and eyes back, your legs shaking.

"Pedro-!"

He grunts at the sensation of your juices on his cock, coating it. In the way your walls flutter around his length, pussy tight making him groan against your neck, where he has now buried his face.

"Stay there, baby. It's my turn" his hips snap and his thrusts turn sloppy. "Gonna paint all of your tight folds with my cum"

His grip tightens as he fucks himself silly into you, chasing his high.

"S'fucking tight" he groans loudly. "Such a good girl for me"

He comes undone, salty hot ropes of thick white cum spurting inside of you, his cock deeply nestled inside of your welcoming warm walls.

"Fuck. Need to fill you up, doll. Until you're so stuffed you can't move without making a mess"

The water keeps falling, as you whimper softly, burying your face in his neck. Pedro keeps rocking into you while riding his orgasm out, soft breathless groans leaving him. He places you down, some of his cum on your thighs. He uses his finger to push it all inside.

"We have been to wasteful to keep on being, right?" Pedro jokes before closing the valve.

"Be honest. You don't give a damn about the planet"

He lets out a hearty laugh.

"Guilty as charged"

There's some silence before he's helping you get back on your shorts.

(He smacks your ass, saying you did it on purpose. You agree. After all, he's quick to know when you lie)

"Good girl" he praises with a small kiss. "Did so well for me"

You kiss him back, fiercely, your mouth practically sucking his lips.

"For good luck, daddy"

Pedro chuckles at your antics. "You fucking minx"

He leaves you after that, going for his stuff. But you stand still in the middle, lost like a little deer. Your ragged breaths fill the room, and he feels a little guilty about having fucked his best friend's daughter on his gym before leaving first thing in the morning to his home country.

"C'mere" you turn your head. "What? C'mon, don't leave me hanging"

You carefully make way to where he is, back in the same bench.

"Sit" he orders.

Oh, the irony of it all.

Once you take place next to him, he makes sure to remove a strand of wet hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear.

"When I win, which I will" you chuckle at his ego, "I'll be sure to remember you, doll"

So when your dad sends you a video of Pedro's match in Chile a day later and The Viper winks to the camera as the referee raises his fist in the air, you like to think it's for you.

cr: divider @kodaswrld / gif @a7estrellas

[ditzydoe444]

what about sacrificial lamb!reader who's ritualistically bestowed to Lucifer!Jason

MDNI 18+

lucifer! jason x sacrificial lamb! reader

—ㅤ꒰ྀིㅤ jason todd x reader ಿৎ

▐ fingering, innocent reader

a/n: this request made my jaw drop because it’s so good, but jason is kinda nice in this one so i hope i did it justice :((

you were a pretty thing, innocent and untouched, and yet you were handed to him. a pathetic sacrificial lamb, given to him. your eyes were wide as you kneeled in front of him, your eyes downcast. “look at me pretty girl,” his tone cold and sharp, making you shake even more, fidgeting with your nails. you nodded, eyes wide and glassy with unshed tears.

it was adorable how scared you were, nothing but a flimsy white dress that barely covered anything, giving him a glimpse of your plush thighs. “come here,” he patted his thighs, “on my lap so we can talk alright? since you are mine now.”

you couldn’t even walk to him without almost tripping on your own feet, he was so big he could crush you with his hands alone. the moment you came close enough to his grasp he pulled you into his lap, his hands gently rubbing your waist. “names jason,” he whispered as he snuggled into the crook of your neck, inhaling your sweet scent, almost sickening.

“can you say that for me?” he promoted, his gaze burning into yours as you nodded, not wanting to disobey him on the first day. “jason,” you mumbled barely audible but gaining a small hum of approval from him. “i must say, you smell sickly sweet,” he groaned as his hands traced up your body, which was significantly smaller than his.

despite how horrifying the situation was for you, you couldn’t help but to be a little turned on. you were now his, a big large man who controlled you, but yet he was treating you like you were the most precious thing in the world, his touch gentle as he explored your body. you secretly hoped that he couldn’t smell your arousal, though clearly you were wrong.

gently, his calloused hands separated your legs, tracing your inner thigh. “what is this sweetheart?” he cooed at the small damp spot on your cotton panties, gently tracing it feeling the slight wetness on his fingers. “mm,” you whined as you tried to hide the pleasure, your cheeks burning. “what was that?” he cooed as he gently probed a response, “you enjoying this? being a sacrificial lamb?”

jason thought that you would be crying and running away, but clearly you were just as entertained as he was, his cock straining his pants. “well a sweet girl like you has needs no?” his voice low as his touch became slightly rougher, applying more pressure on your clit. “nngh,” you squirmed on his lap, the sensation was new but so much, and it felt so good.

“how about i help you with this little situation yeah?” his fingers gently pushing your panties to the side, admiring the sight of your bare cunt. “girls have needs no?”

the ache in between your legs was a new sensation, it was burning whenever he stopped touching you, making you slightly grind on his thigh, earning a low chuckle. “desperate?”

his fingers glistened with your arousal within seconds, the sweet smell filling the room making him slightly hazy, he was pretty damn sure he could get drunk off it. “‘m gonna make you feel good alright?”

“please” you whimpered when he entered a finger, you were a virgin, so that alone was enough to cause a slight burn. you were so tight, gripping tightly on his finger, jason couldn’t help but to wonder what you would feel like around his cock.

within a few minutes your cunt relaxed slightly, taking three of his large fingers with ease as he pumped in and out of your cunt. “mm!” you moaned as your head tilts back, on his chest. “needy thing aren’t you? they didn’t pay attention to you back there?”

god he was going to corrupt a sweet girl like you.

[aurorasdaybreak]

the love shot °˖➴ caleb xia (m)

summary: usually, you're able to keep apart love and hate with ease. but with him, you find that the two are not only more similar than they seem, but also deeply intertwined - to the point you can't separate them anymore. info: farspace fleet colonel!caleb x hunter afab!reader | story compliant | fluff, angst, smut | 18+ | 10k words warnings: some angst, some fluff, mostly smut, possessive!caleb bc ofc he is, possessive!mc bc have you seen his myth?? she did not want to let go AT ALL, (light) spoilers for caleb’s myth, timeline wise this happens i’m considering this an extension of painful signal that might be out of timeline whoopsies (;—;), kissing, making out against a wall, teasing, inappropriate use of evol, dom!caleb, sub!f!reader, choking, f!receiving fingering, f!receiving oral, edging, marking, praise, degradation (slut, cockslut), f!multiple orgasms, squirting, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it!), kinda sappy sex, cervix fucking(ish), caleb checking in bc he’s going hard (and consent and checking in is sexy!), ending is sappy and fluffy?? idk (T_T) author’s note: hi hi hello! i'm new to lads tumblr (but not to writing) and i'm very excited to be here :') it's been a little bit since i've written, so pls be kind but also pls feel free to leave your thoughts in my askbox!! i hope you enjoy :D disclaimer: not beta read, will edit soon for any mistakes!! if you are a minor and you're seeing this, i ask that you turn away and do not read. this is an 18+ story and minors are not welcome. if you are uncomfortable with any of the topics listed in the warning, please do not read this story! °˖➴ inspired by love shot by exo

It’s been hard for you to distinguish what’s true and false these past couple of weeks.

When you took your leave, you had deemed it as a necessary distraction from all of the grief and pain that’s been greeting you in your apartment. You had established your universe’s truths before you touched base in Skyhaven: you’re a Deepspace hunter, you’re here to find links between Ever and the Farspace Fleet, and you’re definitely not using this half-baked mission to run away from what haunts you at night.

An explosion. A necklace just out of reach. Amethyst eyes, dismayed yet hiding something that you couldn’t quite decipher.

You had grown numb to the pain, but that didn’t mean it never left you alone.

When you had gotten into formation waiting for the new Farspace Fleet colonel, you were sure of the reality that you were living in. As lackluster as the world had gotten, it still turned, and you couldn’t wallow and let your anguish eat you alive.

So you stood, holding your breath and waiting to catch a glimpse of the new colonel…

…only for everything you knew to be shattered in an instant.

Because it was him.

But was it really?

In the weeks that followed, you stayed with him and learned new things that kept threatening to disturb the peace you fought to maintain. You learned of his monumental rise through the ranks, the secrets he tried to stash away, even what his workload entailed.

You also learned how wicked he could truly be, bending your trust until you thought it would shatter in between his fingers.

After uncovering the real truth, you had returned to Linkon City and relayed all you knew to Jenna - minus the enigmatic colonel the Association was chasing after. How could you even begin to tell her that the Farspace Fleet’s most feared leader is your childhood best friend? The one that you swore blew up right before your very eyes?

You couldn’t, not without uncovering the truth for yourself first.

So you went back to Skyhaven, spending more days with him.

Looking back on it now, it was almost like when you were kids. He took care of you, cooking your favorite meals and doting on you like he always did. There were soft, stolen moments that you tried to keep at the forefront of your brain, but it was hard to grasp on that warmth when there was an underlying chill in the moments you’ve shared.

You didn’t know then, but you now know the extent of just how wrong things have been within the ranks of the Farspace Fleet. The Toring Chip, memory resets when emotions get too high…people becoming a shell of what they used to be.

You didn’t think that all of this could even exist, much less be possible and be used in such an unfeeling way. In your heart of hearts, you just didn’t want to believe it because it meant that he had gone through it. You had been delusional enough to think he had dodged it.

But all it took was one call from Gideon for you to uncover the truth. Now…

Now, you’re taking in the sight of Caleb Xia’s metal arm in your hands.

You and him are sitting side by side on his makeshift cot, thighs pressed together as you turn the foreign part in your palms. He complies with your silent assessment, moving his arm up and down so that you can examine every angle. Something violent begins to brew in your stomach as you run your fingers along the smooth metal - a rage that you don’t quite know how to quell because you’ve never felt something of this magnitude before.

You almost welcome it. It’s preferable to the gray haze you’ve been living in these past couple of months.

“Do you remember the process?” Your voice is deceptively calm as your palm slides down the length of his forearm so that you can grab his wrist, and you rest his hand in your lap so that you can play with his fingers.

There’s a beat of silence before Caleb lets out a sigh. He pulls his hand from your lap and presses it into his thigh, the joints of his fingers creaking just a little bit at the sheer amount of force he exerts on his own skin. You tut at this, and you grab his wrist again so that you can help his hand relax. You take your time in unfurling each of his metal digits, gently straightening each of them at the knuckle so that they no longer crease. The action has Caleb relaxing, and you try not to shiver when you feel him rest his head on your shoulder.

“I only remember the pain.” It’s a quiet admission, one that leaves his lips and gently ruffles the hair by your ear like a summer breeze carrying a heavy secret. His fingers curl around your own and he squeezes tightly, you returning the same strength. “Looking back, I was thankful for just how excruciating it was. It reminded me that I was alive and that I wasn’t gonna waste my second chance.”

“I hate that you can’t feel much with it anymore.” Your tone is bitter as you shift away from his side, giving you space so that you can properly process all of the information you’ve just been given.

“I don’t just feel much, I feel nothing at all.” Caleb says it with a self-deprecating humor, but you can only scoff as you push yourself off of the cot and stand in front of him.

“I meant what I said about making the Farspace Fleet pay.” You cross your arms and tilt your head to the side, giving him a serious look. “They can’t get away with everything that they’ve done to you and your comrades - hell Caleb, everything they’re doing right now!”

“How do you propose you do that, ____?” He laughs, but it’s not a happy sound as he grabs the back of your thighs and forces you closer, pulling you into his lap so that you straddle him. You tilt your head down so that you can avoid his eyes, and his chest rumbles at your action. 

He tilts your chin up with his metal hand, and you shiver at the restrained strength in which he holds your face. His eyes are cold and his fingers twitch slightly. You should be scared, but somehow you aren’t. There’s a fire that ignites at your proximity, one that’s slowly beginning to spread along your entire body and makes your head spin at its ferocity.

“You can’t just burn the Farspace Fleet down.” It’s almost as if he can read your mind, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he gleaned those thoughts from just one look on your face. “I can’t tell you everything, ____ - but I promise you, things will get better for me, for us.”

That last word has you stilling and dropping your gaze so that you don’t have to look head on at him. You catch a quick glimpse of the silver against his chest, the words When U Come Back highlighted by the silvery light of the moon. Those words feel like a sick joke because the man you gave them to may be here physically - but he’s not really your Caleb.

You reach up to gently pull his metal hand off of your chin, and you can feel the burning of his gaze as you drop your mouth to his right shoulder. You feel his breath hitch when your lips meet the junction of skin and steel, his exhalation shaky when your tongue lightly flicks the slight divot. The taste of salty bitterness lays heavy in your mouth, and you pull away to look back up at his failing restraint.

“Did you feel that?” It’s rhetorical and you both know it from the way you’ve rendered him speechless. His lips form a thin line as your hands make their way up his torso, giving you an anchor as you stare into his eyes. “You say you can’t, but it’s clear that you do.”

Your fingers begin to draw circles on his shoulders, and you try your best to even your breathing so that he can’t see just how affected you are. You can’t afford to show any weakness, not in front of this imposter who wears your dead best friend’s face. 

“I used to be able to read you so clearly.” It’s a whisper, and you let your forehead fall against his collarbone. “I used to know everything just from one look on your face. I hate that they took that from me.”

“Me wearing my heart on my sleeve and showing my weakness?” It’s meant to come out as a scoff, but you can hear the vulnerability in his tone.

“I was thinking more your honesty.” You feel his chest rise quickly, and you shake your head as you chuckle bitterly. “Of course you’d think it’s a weakness now.”

You bite your lip when you hear his hands leave the sheets, and your eyes slip shut when they settle on your waist. The chilling cold and comforting warmth serve as a reminder of the past you crave so much and the present you’re currently dealing with - the cold and calculated colonel versus your childhood best friend who scored himself onto your heart.

Time ticks slowly as he mulls over his response, and your breaths are shallow as you wait for his words. Above you, Caleb swallows thickly before settling on his carefully chosen words.

 “I did it to protect you.”

You quietly suck in a breath, and it’s like even the air in the room has gone still at his quiet admission.

He takes your silence as your permission to continue with his reasoning. The words muffle when they reach your ears though - not because you’re not interested, but because you know it’s not true.

The Caleb you knew would never keep secrets from you. He would be honest, he would never stay away from you for as long as he did.

So why did he?

Are you a burden to him?

Your blood runs cold at the continuous stream of velvet sweetness streaming from his lips, and you shake your head as you push yourself up and away from his suffocating presence. “Bullshit.”

You feel Caleb’s chest stop, your expletive taking him by surprise. “____?”

“I call bullshit, Caleb Xia.”

It’s filled with venom and you clamber away, taking deep breaths and willing yourself to wake up from this suffocating nightmare. You focus your gaze on the single strand of raven hair that sways upright in the nighttime breeze because you know if you look into his eyes, you’ll crumble at his feet. “You didn’t do it for me, you did it to save yourself. Not once did you care for me-”

“That’s a lie and we both know that.” His words are just as harsh as he pushes himself up from the cot, and your eyes pass over his face as his height forces you to see every emotion dancing on his face. “____, I’ve been through the fucking ringer. You have no fucking idea what I had to do to get to this point, what I sacrificed just so I could reach the top all the while protecting my heart.” It comes out raw and his biting words soften at the last word, but you still roll your eyes as you cross your arms to protect yourself.

“So tell me what you did.” They’re quiet but lethally so, satin hiding the steel intent in your words. “Tell me the fucking truth, Caleb. Tell me every painful detail so that I can try to begin to understand you.”

You don’t realize it, but you walk forward until you’re stopped in front of him, back in his space. You hate yourself just a little bit for not being able to fully pull back, but you know deep down you can’t stay too far away from him anymore.

You’re afraid he’ll be taken from you from right under your fingers.

“And in return, I’ll try to tell you the excruciating hurt I went through mourning you and Gran.” Your voice wavers and you grip at your biceps, digging your nails into the muscle to steel yourself. “I’ll try to tell you how fucking awful it felt burying two empty caskets, standing at honor ceremonies, and staring up at my ceiling at night wondering if my dreams would be warm from the happy memories or from the fire that resulted from the blast. I’ll try to explain the emptiness I felt for the months after, because while you were here doing whatever you did to get to the top, I was left with the ghost of you.”

Your lip trembles and you unfold your arms, pressing your palms against your cheeks to furiously wipe away the tears that have begun to course down your face. The room stands still as your shoulders shake, and you can feel his heavy gaze on your head.

“I should have never gone here,” you whisper once your tears subside, leaving you with the bitter emptiness you’ve grown acquainted with. “At least you would’ve stayed dead, and I wouldn’t have grown to hate what you’ve become.”

You turn on your heels and spin around, trying to make your way out of the hidden room. You’re barely able to take two steps before you feel a cool brush against the back of your neck, and you gasp when his metal fingers grasp tightly at your shoulder.

“Repeat that last statement again.” His fingers tighten slightly as he walks in a direction, and a gasp escapes your lips at the sudden proximity and your back meeting a wall. His hand moves up so that his fingers can wrap around your neck, thumb tilting your chin up and forcing you to look at the Colonel standing in front of you as he presses down on the column of your throat just a little bit harder.

“I s-should have never gone h-here.” They leave in puffs, but you still force enough conviction to gain a harsher look in his eyes.

“And?” His voice is clipped, and a sudden pang of fear strikes your spine when you see the wires attached to the machine begin to rise: a sign of him losing his grip on his Evol. “I specifically remember something about hate.”

Your mouth runs dry and your eyes widen, taking in the implication of his words. Caleb laughs humorlessly at your reaction, his fingers slightly loosening and giving you a little taste of the clean air you didn’t realize you were craving.

“Tell me you hate me, ____.” The venomous words are juxstaposed by his gentle tone and his human hand reaching up and gently tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, his warm fingers squeezing your ear lobe and serving as a reminder that somewhere deep down, he’s still your Caleb. “Tell me you hate me, and I’ll let you leave. I’ll disappear for good. I’ll become the ghost you’ve always wanted.”

Your future hangs in a delicate balance as you process his words, turning over the possible options in your head. You’d grown used to living without him and Gran after the explosion. Life was dull, but you’d begun to move on. Staying here and letting him back in would undo the progress you’ve made - it would force you to confront ugly truths you’re not sure you’re ready to face.

But on the other hand…

You don’t think you can do the rest of your life without him. You need him like the air you breathe and the water you drink - he’s vital to your survival like the weapons you wield when you face Wanderers on the field. He’s an extension of you, a reminder of the life you’ve lived and the life that’s ahead of you.

But that life is meaningless without him…even if it’s this twisted, darker version of Caleb you barely know.

You’ve made up your mind.

“I hate you, Colonel Xia. I loathe you with every fiber of my being.” You barely gasp out the words before your arms wrap around his neck and pull him down, bringing his lips to yours.

His reaction is instantaneous, his hands cupping your cheeks and forcing your neck at a higher angle so that he can kiss you more deeply. His body presses yours against the wall, and he swallows the gasp that leaves your lips. It’s angry, full of bitter resentment from the past couple of weeks. His tongue sweeps across your bottom lip and you barely open your mouth wide enough before he forces himself in, tongues tangling before he ultimately wins the battle for dominance.

His hands shift, going from your cheeks to back down your neck before sliding down your back and cupping your hips. He squeezes the flesh and it has your head reeling, pulling away from his lips to gasp for air.

Your head falls back against the wall, and your chest heaves as you suck in air greedily into your lungs. Your fingers grasp his shoulders and you feel your stomach flip at the tortured groan that escapes his mouth, right before he pulls you in even closer to him and kisses you again.

It’s another battle for victory, and you win a point when your fingers reach up to pull at his hair. Caleb’s mouth falls even wider at the sensation and you use that timing to your advantage, allowing yourself to bite and suck at his bottom lip. He groans again, and the sound sends shivers down your spine and causes you to smirk against his mouth.

“What, tired already?” You can’t help the taunting tone that enters your voice, and he pulls away just enough so that you can see the steely resolve on his face.

“In your dreams,” Caleb retorts. His hands shift from your hips to your ass and you try to mask the whimper that nearly escapes you as an exhale, but you know he knows by the huff against your lips that you’ve failed.

He uses your daze to pull your hips even closer to his front, and your eyes roll back into your skull when you feel his rapidly hardening length in his slacks. “This is what you do to me, ____.” He grinds his hips against yours, and this time you can’t quite help the moan that leaves your lips. “You drive me fucking insane.”

You don’t even offer a retort, instead choosing to pull him back down again so that you can kiss him again. He willingly lets you, and you bite down on his lip hard when his palms squeeze at your ass. He taps two fingers against the flesh and your arms tighten around his neck, giving him the chance to slide his hands to the back of your thighs and wrapping your legs around his waist with ease.

Caleb walks out of his makeshift infirmary back into his living room, dodging furniture with ease as you press your lips against his jaw. You feel his chest rumble against yours as you begin to nip and suck blossoms under his chin, and his hands squeeze your ass in warning when you begin to mark up his neck.

You barely register that you’re in his (your?) bedroom until you land onto the bed on your back with a gasp. You bite your lip when you see Caleb kick off his slippers and socks before making his way over to the bed, grabbing your thighs and dragging you to the edge of the bed before letting his palms settle on your hips.

“You know that marking Skyhaven property is a punishable offense?” Caleb’s voice is a drawl as his fingers massage their way up your sides, dipping underneath your shirt and tracing circles that have your patience thinning. “You can be fined or jailed. Depends on the severity, though.”

“W-what does it matter?” Your voice leaves in a gasp as Caleb’s hands finally slide underneath your shirt, giving you the touch you so desperately crave.

“Think about it, pips.” Caleb pulls you up by your waist, and your head spins as he nudges your thighs apart with his knee. “What were you doing just now?”

“Caleb, what-” You can barely think as he guides your arms up, working your shirt over your head before tossing the garment somewhere in his room. He pushes you back down onto the bed, and you feel your eyes begin to close at the hazy, almost animalistic look in his own gaze. His hands pinch at your hips, though, and your eyes snap back open to meet his once again.

“Think, ____.” There’s an edge to his voice as his hands return to your waist, slowly making their way up to your ribcage. “What were you doing to me in the living room?”

You can barely think, mind clouding in need as his thumbs brush the underside of your bra cups. He skims the digits along the underside, letting his nails trace the lacy material - making you swallow thickly as you try to place your answer. 

Your eyes catch the blossoming purple on his neck, and you finally put two and two together. “All because I gave you hickeys?”

“Good girl.” There’s a touch of humor in his voice, and he rewards you by sliding his thumbs underneath your bra and running the rough digits along the swell of your breasts. Your head lolls back at the stimulation, although annoyance flares in your stomach - mixing with the desire and lighting a savage flame in your body.

“That’s dumb as fuck.” It’s a moan, but you can feel his annoyance by the way his hands stop.

“Why is that?” Caleb’s hands make their way to your back, and you lift your torso so that he can struggle with your bra’s clasps. “I’m the Farspace Fleet’s colonel, ____. And my uniform’s gonna have a hard time covering the gifts you’ve given me, pips.”

“Because, Caleb,” you laugh when he fumbles with the clasps, and the irritation on his face gives way to a slight look of endearment that has your heart clenching. You make your heart calm down before you continue with faux confidence. “Because, you were mine first.”

His hands stop at your words, and you meet his eyes with unwavering honesty in response to his incredulous stare. “Pips, what-”

“You’ll always be mine.” Your hands tremble when you lift them to his face, but your touch is sure as you brush a strand of hair off of his forehead. “You’ll never be their property because they can’t take my Caleb away from me.”

The air in the room stills as he pulls his body away from yours, registering the weight of your words. You suddenly feel cold all over and you begin to shiver, although it’s not from the temperature of your current surroundings.

Why did you say that in your stupid, lustful daze?

And why do you suddenly feel nervous about his reaction?

Your eyes land on the hickeys your lips and teeth have left on his chest, the littered marks suddenly making you feel self conscious. What a stupid thing to do. Maybe you should stop-

You feel a sudden pressure on your torso as you’re forced back onto the bed, not realizing that you had pushed yourself up onto your forearms. You look up to see Caleb’s stormy eyes - lust and anger and another emotion you can’t quite place clouding his entire face. His palms land on your bra cups, and you can barely gasp in shock when he grips the lace and tears it clean off your body.

“Caleb!” Your annoyance is evident, and you look up at him with a thin press of your lips. “That was one of my favorite pairs-”

Your statement falls flat when he cups your bare breasts, and you gasp when you feel his thumbs roll against your nipples. He readjusts your body so that your hips are on the edge of the bed, and he lets his face fall into the crook of your neck.

“I’ll buy you a new pair.” There’s a new rawness in his voice, and you shiver when you feel his tongue flick at your earlobe. “I’ll buy you whatever the fuck you want, but it’ll be from me.”

His mouth moves down your neck, and you cry out when you feel his teeth catch your nipple. He flicks at the little bud with the tip of his tongue, and his metal hand begins to pinch and rub at the other, making you rub your hips against his as you gasp.

“You’re so fucking mine, ____.” Caleb’s mouth leaves your breast, and he places a soft kiss against the skin where your heart beats. “It’s you and me, pips.”

His tongue leaves a trail from your chest up to your neck, and he kisses your jaw before nudging your nose against his and letting his forehead fall against yours. “You’re not leaving, ever again.”

It’s a whispered promise, and your eyes flutter shut when your mouth meets his once again. While your first kiss was angry and turbulent, this one is sweet and seals his vow - a slow press of lips, a swipe of his tongue against your bottom lip, and a pace that builds the desperation that’s been festering in the pit of your stomach.

Caleb’s mouth begins to leave a feathery trail, slowly mapping a path from your chin and down the column of your throat. Your breathing stops when he reaches your chest, but he elects to pass your nipples entirely and continue his way down your stomach - finally reaching the skin that’s covered by your pants.

It feels like your nerves are going to ignite at any second - the fire that’s been slowly flickering about to consume you from the inside out. You feel his fingertips slide their way under the band of your pants and you don’t even need to think about it, you just lift your hips up so that he can pull the fabric off of your body.

Your eyes blink open at the sharp intake of his breath when he sees you in nothing but the lace panties that match the bra he tore off, and you fight the urge to reach up and cover yourself. Sure, Caleb’s seen you in a variety of ways since your shared childhood, but never in a way that’s been this…intimate.

He catches your gaze, and you can’t help but smile at the flush that’s painting his cheeks. You watch as he kneels in front of you, and you whimper when his hands land on your thighs and open them as wide as he pleases - allowing him to slot himself in between your legs

Your chest begins to rise and fall in much shallower breaths when his left hand reaches up to touch the little white bow at the center front of your underwear. He toys with the little bit of fabric, and a smirk grows on his lips as his metallic fingers squeeze your plush flesh. “These are cute, ____.”

“They matched the bra you ripped.” Your voice is serious, but you bite your bottom lip and look up at him with a coy smile. “How are you gonna make it up to me, Colonel Xia?”

His body stiffens at your words, and a new layer of frost enters the room as he looks down at you coolly. His hands finally toy with the waistband of your panties, fiddling and sliding the band up and down in a way that lets you know that you’ve made a mistake.

“Don’t call me that.” His voice is clipped, but you can’t find it in yourself to heed his warning when he finally drags the scrap of lace down your thighs. He doesn’t take it fully off, though - he instead elects to leave them halfway down your thighs.

“Why not?” There’s a humorous note to your tone, and you’re surprised to find that you enjoy the sight of him blushing and at a loss for words. You bend your knee and lift your leg just the tiniest bit, angling your ankle so that it barely brushes against the bulge that’s straining against the front of his pants. His fingers tremble against your sides as he chokes at the stimulation, and you giggle and let your leg fall back down. “Is something wrong, Colonel Caleb?”

It’s like something in him snaps.

All of a sudden, he’s pressing your hips down onto the bed, and you can barely move. You gasp as Caleb’s body goes, kneeling at the edge of the bed and moving his head dangerously close to your weeping core. Your body heats in embarrassment and you try to snap your legs shut, but before you can do so he’s grabbing your knees and placing them on his shoulders.

“Don’t. Move.” It’s an impossible command, especially since you can feel the way his hair brushes against your core. Your eyes flutter shut, but they snap back open when you feel him pinch your knee. “And keep your eyes on me, ____.”

Time slows as you feel his lips brush against your knee, a whisper that makes you think you dreamt the sensation. You’re brought back to the present when you feel his lips move closer to the place you want him most - featherlight kisses and brushes of his hair enough to drive you to madness, but not enough to push you to the end you so desperately crave.

Caleb’s lips stop at your inner thigh, right before the place you want him most. You try your best to follow his orders, but it’s near impossible. Your patience is hanging on by a thread, and you don’t know just how long you can keep following what he wants.

Caleb feels your thighs tremble underneath his metal palm, and you know he can feel your desperation at the rumble of his laughter as he stops his teasing. “What’s wrong, ____? Can’t wait anymore?”

“N-no,” you stutter out, trying to hide how affected you are by him. “I-i’m just-”

“Just what?” There’s a potent venom that’s disguised by the honeyed tone he injects into his voice. If you closed your eyes, you would almost believe that he was actually concerned. “Just wanting me?”

You don’t know why, but this sets you off in a way you didn’t know was possible. You buck your hips, and you let out a soft cry when your core just slightly meets his mouth. Your eyes slowly slip shut as you buck your hips again and again, craving and wanting and begging-

But suddenly, your hips stop.

Your eyes widen as you realize just what he did to you, and your stomach flips in equal parts fear and want as you look down and see the cold, calculated smirk playing at the edge of his lips.

“I told you not to move, ____.” Caleb’s Evol pins your body to the mattress, and he uses his hands to spread your thighs as far as they can go with your panties restraining you. “And to keep your eyes on me. And since you’ve failed at those two commands, well...”

His teeth bite down at the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, and you cry out as he sucks harshly. Caleb pulls away to examine the hickey he created to match the ones you made on his neck, and you can’t help but moan when you see the possessiveness in his gaze.

“Caleb, plea-” you begin, but the words die on your tongue when he stares at you with that cold, calculated stare he only gives to those under his command.

“How many times did you move your hips?”

“What?” You’re confused by his question.

“How. Many. Times?”

He presses his lips into your skin after every word, his tongue sucking on your flesh and leaving more marks on your skin. Your mind spins as you try to count, and your answer leaves in a clumsy breath: “Three? Why the fuck does it matter?”

He hums at your response, shaking his head and giving you a smirk. “Oh, ____. You’ll learn soon.”

It’s all the warning you get before his metal fingers meet your pussy, carelessly dragging them up against your slit. A strangled cry escapes your body when the stimulation finally registers in your mind, and you try to buck your hips up so that you can begin to chase your high.

You’ve forgotten about his Evol, however, so you’re forced to feel the molten sensation spreading across your body.

“You’re so impatient, baby.” There’s a whisper of a laugh in Caleb’s voice as he continues to slide his fingers against your pussy lips, avoiding the one spot you want him to press down on the most. “What happened to all the patience I taught you?”

“You taught me jack shit-” you try to snap, but it cuts off into a moan when you feel his fingers dip slightly into your sopping hole. You gnaw at your bottom lip and glare at him, but all he does is work his finger gently into your hole and give you a shit-eating grin.

“Mmm, that’s right ____,” he hums sweetly, slowly working in the cold digit. You try your best to hold his gaze, but the combination of how cold and thick his ring finger is has your eyelids slowly slipping shut.

All of a sudden, you feel his finger pushing deep inside of you, and you cry out and meet his gaze. Caleb’s lips continue to display a twisted grin as he slowly retracts his finger, and you can’t even do anything about it because your hips are held in place by his stupid Evol.

“Sorry, pips.” You can tell he’s not sorry at all, but your sarcastic reply is cut off by a moan when he pushes his finger back in slowly. “You’re just too easy to tease.”

“You’re such an ass.” You can barely breathe from the pleasure he gives you with just a single finger, and you know he can see it from the way your head shakes back and forth on his mattress and the sweat that begins to make your body glisten. You hear Caleb groan from between your thighs, and you lift your head as far as you can manage and whimper at the sight of him thrusting his metal finger in and out of your cunt while his warm palm squeezes your thigh harshly.

You feel the telltale sign of your orgasm beginning to build in the pit of your stomach and you cry out, frustrated at not being able to buck your hips up. You close your eyes and let your head flop back onto the mattress, and you let the feeling wash over your entire being. You can feel yourself get closer and closer and closer until-

-until it fucking stops.

“What the fuck?!” Your eyes snap open and you crane your head up in desperation, only to be greeted by Caleb’s pleased face. His amethyst gaze meets your own, and you can only watch as he brings his finger up to his lips and sucks your want off of the metal like it’s the water he needs to survive.

“Fuck, ____-” Caleb groans, and before you can even register what he’s done, he places both of his hands on your thighs and presses his mouth against your soaking cunt.

“C-caleb!” You cry out. Your hands immediately shoot out and you intertwine your fingers with his soft hair so that you have something to anchor yourself in reality. Caleb groans at the dull ache at his skull but instead of slowing down he speeds up - making the sensations he forces on your body that much more intense.

Caleb’s tongue carelessly traces lines up and down your slit, and you nearly sob in relief when you feel the tip of his tongue finally flick at your clit. He repeats the motion again, and he laughs when he sees the way your hole begins to leak with more of your slick.

“I didn’t know you were that desperate, pips.” Embarrassment flares in the pit of your stomach, although it’s quickly flushed away when he presses the flat of his tongue against your entire pussy and licks up in one, slow stroke.

“M-more, Caleb-” You try to fight the tears that threaten to slide down your cheek, but it’s hard when Caleb continues his ministrations on your cunt. It feels too damn good, and you both know that you’re rapidly reapproaching the climax he so rudely ruined the first time.

Caleb looks up at you, and he can’t help but groans against your cunt at the sight that greets him. Your face is covered in both a light sheen of sweat and tears, and in his twisted mind he wants to lick your cheek just so that he can taste every bit of you. His amethyst eyes go lower, pausing to stare at the way your breasts heave up and down with every breath, down and down until he’s greeted again by the sight of the cunt he’s had dreams about for years.

Your hole is fully leaking by now, begging to be stuffed full of his cock and your clit is swollen from his tongue playing with it. Up above, Caleb can hear you begging to just give you what you want and, well…how can he refuse his girl?

You nearly scream when you feel his lips wrap around your clit, sucking on the sensitive bud while he begins pistoning his fingers in and out of your sloppy cunt. Having gone from a gentle stream of pleasure to a full on tsunami, your brain doesn’t know what to focus on or what to do. You’re about to fall apart at the seams, so you do the only thing you know to do in this moment in time:

You cry out his name.

“Caleb!”

“That’s right, ____.” He commands in a soft yet dangerous voice. His fingers pick up their pace, and a strangled moan leaves your mouth. “I want you to scream, baby. There’s no one here but the two of us so you can be as loud as you fucking want.”

“Oh fuck-” you hiccup, and your fingers tighten against his hair. “Caleb, your Evol-”

“No.” You can feel his head shake his dissent, but it only adds to your pleasure because his lips rub your clit from side to side. He mumbles something under his breath, but you can’t really find it in yourself to care because you’re approaching your climax again and you desperately want to fall apart.

You try to be discreet in your chase, willing yourself to dig your nails into your palm so that he can’t see the way your hands shake. Caleb takes your silence as your plateau, so he doubles his efforts: pistoning his fingers in and out of your pussy and laving little licks on your clit in a bid to bring you to the precipice.

Caleb’s lips pull away from your swollen bud and you try to protest the action by squeezing your thighs shut but he replaces his tongue with his thumb, pressing and rubbing at the nub to placate you. He looks up at your eyes, and you can feel your false bravado crumble at the devilish grin on his face. “You’re awfully quiet up there, pips.”

A broken moan slips out of your mouth, followed by a gasp of his name. “C-caleb-”

“Are you close, baby?”

All of your pride leaves your body at his simple question, and you nod while giving him your sweetest eyes so that he takes pity on you and allows you to cum. “‘m c-close-”

“How close?” Caleb’s fingers gradually pick up their pace, a smooth push and pull in and out of your cunt. You whimper at the feeling, only to whine into the air when you feel his fingers hook up to press into your sweet spot.

“C-close,” you gasp. Your hands leave his hair and you press your palms against your breasts, gently pinching at your nipples so that you can finally push yourself over the edge. You’re so close, you’re about to fall off-

“Not yet.”

Caleb pulls his fingers away from your cunt and you nearly scream in frustration, attempting to close wrap your legs completely around his neck so that his mouth can finish the job. Caleb’s much quicker, however, and he carelessly pushes your knees off his shoulders before standing up and peering down at you with a pleased smile.

“Is my girl desperate?” Caleb’s presence is commanding, but you can’t help but watch his hands as he reaches down to unzip his slacks. “____, I’ve given you so much pleasure but you don’t seem to remember that I’m human too.”

Your breath stops as he pushes the fabric and his boxers down his thighs, and you swallow thickly at the sight of his cock slapping his abs. For all your years living with him when you were kids, you’ve always been mindful of his privacy and never walking in on him naked. Your stomach flips at the length and girth of him, because how in the world is he going to fit into you?

“I’ll make sure I fit.” It’s almost like he’s reading your thoughts, and you look up to see a tender look on his face in response to what’s probably an apprehensive look on your own. He kicks off his underwear and slacks before grabbing at your panties and pulling them down your legs. He releases his Evol on your hips, and you take this as a signal to push yourself up to his headboard while he drops the scrap of fabric onto the floor, and he crawls up the bed so that he can brace himself on his forearms and look down at you.

Caleb smiles softly at you - a far cry from the man who was edging you to the point of tears. Despite everything you smile back, gently nudging your nose with his and eliciting a chuckle from his mouth. He presses a kiss on your cheek and you sigh, taking his sweet action as a chance to reach down and wrapping your hands around his cock.

A strangled sound emerges from the depths of his chest and his head falls to your chest as you pump his length, wanting to give him a fraction of the pleasure you experienced. Caleb’s breathing slowly grows more laboured, but before you can fully achieve your goals he grabs at your hand and stops.

“Not yet,” he slowly grits out, and he pulls your hands off of his cock and pins them both to the headboard with his left hand. His right hand guides his cock to your pussy, and you gasp when you feel his fat tip catch your clit. “I decide when the both of us cum, ____.”

He rolls his hips and you both moan - him from how your slick coats his dick, and you from how his cockhead slightly catches your sopping hole. Your hips buck up so that he can slip inside, but before you can succeed you can feel the telltale weight of his Evol pinning the lower half of your body down and rendering you immobile.

“Fuck you, Caleb,” you grit out through your teeth, and you want nothing more than to bite his neck. He winks at you in response, and he lets go of your wrists before placing both hands on your waist and rubbing comforting circles on your ribcage.

“I’m getting to that,” he jokes, and before you can offer a scathing response he slowly pushes his cock into your cunt. You gasp at the initial pressure of his tip breaching your entrance, but the gasp turns into a long drawn moan the more he forces his thick length - up until he bottoms out, and his balls hit the swell of your ass.

You can barely breathe in your current position - legs spread, his gravity Evol pinning you down to the bed, and your hands gripping the headboard like it’s your last lifeline to your sanity - and maybe it is.

It feels like the knot building in the pit of your stomach could snap at any moment - and Caleb knows it most of all.

“Tell me you want it, ____.” Your eyes flutter back into your skull as he rolls his hips. His cock hits deep inside of you, and a strangled breath makes its way out of your chest when he pulls back slowly.

“C-caleb-!” It’s a plea, and you try to fight against his Evol so that you can link your ankles against the small of his back and pull him closer into your cunt. “P-please-”

“Uh-uh.” It’s annoyingly patient as his left hand reaches out to brush your hair away from your sweaty forehead. His right hand drifts closer to your mound, and you cry out when his cool fingers roll one agonizingly slow circle onto your clit. “Beg, ____.”

You don’t know how, but your stupid pride has you biting your lip as you try to fight his Evol so that you can writhe on his mattress. Your head flips back in frustration, and you can only force out a small, teary “Fuck you.”

“Aren’t I already doing that?” Your pussy flutters at the smirk on his face, and a slight dose of satisfaction fills your chest at the choked moan he forces back, although you’re annoyed at how cocky he still looks. “Beg, ____.”

“No.” You’re proud at how your voice doesn’t waver, although that quickly goes away when you feel his hips pull back more until only his tip remains inside. “W-wait-”

“You know what I’m asking for, ____.” Caleb’s tone is deceptively sweet as he begins to rub circles on your clit, making you cry out in the painful pleasure. “Beg for my cock, and I’ll make you feel so fucking good you’ll want to stay here forever.”

“F-fuck!” You can feel your climax beginning to build again, rising from the plateau he had previously created with your two denied orgasms. Your eyes fall shut and tears escape as your head writhes on his pillow - body held still by his Evol so that you’re forced to feel every bit of pleasure he wreaks onto your body.

Caleb’s hips threaten to snap forward, but he forces himself still as he takes in the view of you underneath his body, barely speared on his cock but already delirious on the pleasure. It fills him with a sick sense of satisfaction - the fearless leader and daring Hunter reduced to a little cockslut writhing on only the tip of his dick. He has half a mind to pull out just so that he can make you sob from the emptiness, but he holds back and continues to rub little circles on your clit until you break.

“C’mon, ____.” It almost sounds teasing, and you sob when you feel yourself on the edge of the precipice - just about to fall off. “Say you want me.”

You’re deliriously out of your mind, and all pride leaves your body when you open your eyes and look at the face that has haunted you in your sleep for the past couple of months. “P-please Caleb! Please make m-me cum-”

“Fuck,” he swears, and you barely register him releasing his gravity hold on your body before he grips your knees and forces them on his shoulders once again, pressing his cock all the way in and hitting your sweet spot in one fell swoop.

“S-shit, Caleb!” It’s a scream as you cum, your eyes sliding shut. Your orgasm washes over your body and consumes you from the inside out, and all you can do is dig your nails into his shoulders to anchor you in the present. Caleb can barely hold himself together when he feels your release pelt at his thighs and balls, and he groans before gripping your calves tighter and drilling himself into your cunt.

“You’re such a slut, ____,” he rumbles as he angles your body up, pistoning his hips so that he can more easily reach your deepest spot. “You came just from me pushing my cock into your pussy? I thought you had more restraint than that.”

“C-caleb.” You’re sobbing at this point, the pleasure bordering pain. “Oh fuck, Caleb-”

He leans down and presses his mouth against your breasts, biting as he continues to thrust in and out of you. His lips create a trail of marks up the column of your neck until they press against your lips. Your mouth falls open easily, and he breathes harshly as your tongue grazes his.

“Look at what I’ve reduced the top Hunter to,” Caleb murmurs with gentle poison. He plants kisses all over your face, and the sweet gesture almost makes you forget that he’s ravaging you. “The sweetest little cockslut who only knows how to scream my name.”

Your only response is to cry out even louder, your hands sliding down and finding purchase on his broad back. Your nails dig into the muscle so that you can try and keep from spiraling deeper into your pleasure, and you’re rewarded with a groan against your mouth.

Caleb’s hips slow to a torturous pace, designed to make you feel every inch of him sliding in and out. Your walls tremble around his aching length and you whimper when he pushes in one final time and stops, letting the both of you catch your breath. Your head swims in your current position - you’re so unbelievably full of his cock, but you want more.

“Caleb.” You can’t hide the desperation in your voice, and your hips tilt just the tiniest bit so that you can feel a fraction of the pleasure he gave you. “I-I wanna c-cum again, please-”

You roll your hips more boldly this time, and he gasps when his tip hits your sweet spot. Your walls flutter and you squeal, your head falling back as you continue to grind yourself on his cock.

All of a sudden, you feel the heaviness of his Evol settle on your hips once more, forcing you to stop. You cry out and try to fight it, but the cool brush of metal on your chin forces you to open your eyes and look up.

And you find your blood running cold.

Because Caleb - oh, you can tell he’s mad.

His lips are straight, and you can tell that he’s holding himself back for the sole purpose of punishing you. His hips pull back until he’s fully unsheathed from your cunt, and you sob at the way your walls clench pathetically at the sudden emptiness.

You need him.

There’s a dark chuckle above you, and you know he can see the desperation on your face. There’s a wet plap!, and you register the sound of his dick slapping against your pussy before feeling it properly. You cry out again, and Caleb takes your open mouth as an opportunity to slap his cock against your cunt again.

He continues his action over and over until you find yourself at the edge again, begging for his cock deep in your pussy. You can barely make out the babbles escaping your mouth - not when you feel so fucking good and you want more.

All of a sudden he stops, and you feel his warm hand gently cupping your cheek. Your eyes open blearily, and you can see the concern on his face as he looks down at you. “You okay, ____?”

Your heart squeezes at the care on his face, and you turn your head so that you can press a kiss against his palm. You can hear his shaky gasp above you, and you look back at him with a small smile on your lips.

“‘’ okay.” It comes out as a slurred whine, and you look up at him imploringly. “I promise, I j-just feel too good.”

He laughs at this, and his head dips down so that he can kiss the skin of your throat. His lips make their way past your chin and all the way up to your lips, where he presses the softest kiss on your mouth that has you melting.

This is your Caleb.

This is the man you love.

You don’t want to say it, though. You don’t want to shatter the illusion.

So you kiss him back slowly, and you pull away before he can deepen your kiss so that you can whisper:

“Please Caleb, I want all of you.”

There’s a standstill as he processes your words, and he doesn’t give you time to think before his Evol is lifting once more so that he can arch your chest up to meet his. Caleb’s mouth presses against your lips once more, and you gasp as you feel his cock entering you once more - giving you exactly what you need.

There are no other sounds in your shared room besides your gasps and the sound of the headboard smacking against your wall. It feels like it’s just you and Caleb - and that’s exactly how you want it to stay.

Caleb grunts as he begins to deepen his thrusts, and he takes a chance to look down at you when he sees that your eyes are closed. His heart swells in his chest at the sight of you - marks on your neck and chest, sweat making your skin glisten, and feeling so good because of him.

He’s suddenly overwhelmed by all of this - all of you. The one he loves more than the entire world, the one he’s kept carefully locked away in the deepest recesses of his memories. He’s adding all of this to that special place. Every excruciating moment spent at the Farspace Fleet is worth it because he’s protecting his love - protecting you.

Caleb leans down, pressing kisses on your lips as he gradually speeds up again. “I’m gonna cum inside this pretty cunt, stuff you full of my cum and make you mine forever.” Each word is emphasized by a messy thrust, and you can barely register what he means because you just feel too good right now. “I’m going to take care of you f-forever, ____. It’ll j-just be us two, baby, f-fuck-”

His hips start to stutter and you cry out when you feel his metal fingers land on your clit, rubbing hard circles and driving you closer and closer to your edge. His warm hand makes its way to your hand, and you squeeze his fingers tightly when your palms meet so that you have something to hold on to when you give yourself completely to him.

“Let’s cum together, ____.” It’s a plea and you both moan when his tip batters at your cervix. His Evol on your body loosens and you immediately grind your hips up to meet his thrusts, making the both of you spiral closer towards your joined end.

“C-caleb,” you hiccup, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. “‘M-m, I’m about to cu-”

“It’s okay, you can cum.” He leans down and presses his lips against your forehead, pressing soft kisses while maintaining his pace so that you can fall off the edge safely. “Cum for me, baby.”

With his permission you finally allow yourself to fall, the knot in your stomach unraveling as you cum. It’s not as painful as the first time - this one is filled with more warmth, accompanied by Caleb’s mouth peppering doting kisses all over your face. You cry out at the duality of his sweet kisses and his hard thrusts, walls fluttering around his thick cock and begging for him to meet you at the end.

Caleb grits his teeth and continues to pump himself into your inviting heat as you writhe underneath him, feeling his hips stutter and his balls tighten at the sound of your sweet gasps and your fluttering walls around him. He brings your fingers up to his mouth and presses reverent kisses on each of your fingertips before bringing your palm to his lips and kissing the skin gently. The sweet gesture makes your eyes open, and you blearily look at him with a blissful haze.

“C-cum for me, Caleb.” It’s a soft command, one that makes him groan as your legs wrap around his waist to pull him in. “I want your cum in me, please Caleb.”

“Oh shit, ____-” He thrusts his cock into you one more time before stilling, his head falling onto your neck as he cums. You whine at the feeling of warmth, your walls weakly pulsing around his cock in an attempt to take all of him. His hands settle on your hips and he squeezes like his life depends on it, and you’re sure that you’ll leave bruises on the delicate skin.

You can’t find it in yourself to care, though. You want all of it.

His head lifts up from your neck, and you can’t help but giggle at the glassy look in his eyes. Your fingers move to push up the sweaty strands away from his forehead, but he catches your hands and pulls it toward his mouth.

You watch as he repeats the same tender action of kissing your fingertips, and your heart aches at the intimacy of it all.

“Are you the Farspace Fleet Colonel or Caleb Xia?”

Your question breaches through the content silence, and you hate that you have to say it. It’s something necessary though - a summary of everything that’s happened between the two of you, and his answer will determine how things go.

Caleb looks at you, a softness in his eyes that has your heart aching. He presses a kiss on your forehead, and he nudges your nose against his own before finally giving you his answer

“I’m both.” You gasp at his words, but his hands gently knead your waist and placate you. “I’m both, and it’s our reality now.”

He kisses your eyelids this time, and you feel your eyes water at the gentle intimacy. “I don’t know how I’ll make it up to you, ____. But I mean what I said. Everything I do is to protect you. I don’t know how, but I’ll make it up to you for as long as you want me to.”

His words taper off as he lets you mull over his meaning. You lips brush over his own, and he leaves a chaste kiss - leading you to come up with your response.

“You can start by cooking breakfast for me tomorrow.” The words are softened by your sleepy tone, and you hum in content at the gentle rumble of his laughter below you. “And by telling me what you remember from the start.”

“I promise.” He seals it with a kiss on your lips, and you smile sleepily at the tender action before you nuzzle yourself into his chest - letting yourself surrender to slumber.

a/n #2: i hope you enjoyed <3 pls leave your thoughts here!

[aajjks]

Broke Boy, Fake Girlfriend (m)

synopsis. Your annoying roommate, Jungkook’s shameless fake dating act goes hilariously wrong when he thinks he can charm you into paying for his café splurge, but you turn the tables with some dangerously sweet flirtation.

pairings: jungkook x fem!reader.

genre: 18+, crack, roommate au.

warnings: 18+, fâkë dätïng tròpë, châôtïc flïrtïng, brókë bøy Jûngkook, tëâsïng, ëmbârrássïng mômënts, önë-sïdëd crùsh, pûblïc hümïlïâtïön, pówër shïft, hëâvy tënsïön, tëâsïng bântër, spïcy flïrtâtïön, crïngë mômënts, slöw bûrn.

note. I can’t thank you guys enough for so much love on the both parts so I thought maybe I should give you another one. Also, I found this GIF on Pinterest so credits to owner And Let’s just hope you guys would like this as well and tell me what do you think of the chaos and y’all can talk to him whenever you want. ENJOY.

“My girlfriend will pay for this.”

How do you always end up in this situation?

You blink.

You’re standing in line at a café, hands casually tucked in your pockets, minding your own business when those words hit you like a freight train.

Jungkook’s standing at the counter, a devilish grin plastered across his face, watching you with those damn puppy dog eyes. His tattooed hand casually gestures to you, like this whole scenario is as normal as breathing.

The barista, the one who’s been shamelessly flirting with him this entire time, looks back and forth between you two, her cheeks flushed pink.

“Oh—;” she giggles, voice breathy. “That’s so sweet of you.”

Sweet.

Sweet would be not dragging you into his latest ridiculous plan just because he’s broke again after spending all his money on gaming skins and who knows what else.

You narrow your eyes at him. He doesn’t even flinch.

“Yeah, my baby’s got me,” Jungkook hums, stretching lazily against the counter, his hoodie pulling up just enough to reveal a tantalizing glimpse of toned abs. Intentional. “She takes such good care of me.”

You swear you could hear the little pitter-patter of his fan club forming in the background.

‘My baby?’

You grit your teeth, gripping your wallet like it might suddenly escape your clutches. “You—;” you inhale, trying to remain calm. “I’m paying?”

“Obviously.” Jungkook doesn’t even hesitate.

God, he’s insufferable.

“Since when are we dating?”

Jungkook gasps.

Gasped.

He puts his hand on his heart, pretending to be hurt and makes a dramatic expression that makes you almost cringe.

“Babe. What do you mean?” His voice cracks with that exaggerated hurt, and you can’t help but roll your eyes.

The barista giggles again, and you can see the sparkles in her eyes as she watches this whole ridiculous exchange.

Jungkook still has that pleading look, trying to play it off like you’re the one at fault for not realizing you were in the middle of his latest fake-dating fantasy.

You both know he’s out of cash and desperate.

He can’t possibly pay for this.

You should say no. You should do the right thing.

You should humiliate him right here in front of the cute barista and walk away, satisfied in your moral high ground.

But then—

“I’d get her anything off the menu,” Jungkook sighs, voice dropping an octave, his gaze lingering on your lips like he’s about to pull the most dramatic move of the century.

“She’s my princess. My world.”

Oh no.

Oh, he thinks you won’t play along.

And that—that little shit—that’s when you realize.

Jungkook’s not just doing the broke, flirting for sympathy… act. No, he’s flipping the script. He’s going full-on fake boyfriend mode.

He’s giving you those eyes, the ones that usually make girls melt on the spot.

His voice is suddenly, smooth and heavy, like he actually wants this to be real.

And then? The barista is still watching.

Oh, you know exactly what he’s doing.

You step closer, fingers lightly brushing against his chest as you lean in, your lips barely a whisper from his ear.

He freezes, clearly not prepared for the full-on flirtation storm that’s coming his way.

“Kookieee,” you say, voice dripping with saccharine sweetness. “Of course, I’m paying for my baby.”

Jungkook’s eyes go wide, and he makes this little sound—like he’s actually short-circuiting. He’s malfunctioning, visibly thrown off by how casually you’re playing along.

The barista is living for this. She’s practically sparkling now, too, and you know she’s ready to ship this fake couple straight to the moon.

But Jungkook? Jungkook’s dying.

He’s still standing there, mouth hanging slightly open, blinking rapidly like he needs to reset his brain, but you’re not done yet.

You lean in just a little bit more, hand still firmly placed against his chest, pressing your body close enough to feel the heat radiating from him.

His breathing gets heavier, a little shaky. And then you make your move.

You brush your fingers down his shirt, just enough to tease him, watching the way his whole body locks up, like he’s trying not to make a scene.

He doesn’t move. Doesn’t say a word. He just stands there like the world’s hottest, most embarrassed mess.

“Oh, you’re so cute when you’re all flustered,” you murmur, leaning back slightly to get a good look at him, your fingers brushing his jaw.

His skin is so warm, so soft, and it’s making your whole body heat up.

Fuck, he’s cute.

Jungkook doesn’t even try to respond— he’s too busy replaying every single moment you’ve touched him in the last few seconds, and he’s mentally begging for you to finish the job.

He’s literally so embarrassing, but for the first time in your life, you had fun embarrassing him.

You take a step back, giving him just a little space. He’s still staring at you like you’ve just turned his life upside down.

Good. You’ve won.

“Let’s play, babe,” you say with a smirk, voice lighter now. He’s completely melting.

You swipe your card, taking your drinks.

You turn toward the door, but before you leave, you lean in one last time, brushing past him just close enough for your lips to graze his ear.

Oh, this is fun.

“You owe me, babe,” you whisper.

And with that, you leave him there, dazed, red-faced, and completely undone, just standing there like a mess in front of the barista, who is looking at him like she’s just witnessed an angel descend from heaven.

You walk out of the café like you’ve just done your civic duty in the most chaotic, teasing way possible. The power is all yours.

Victory. And Jungkook? Well, he’s got a lot to think about.

And a raging boner to take care of.

[thevalicemultiverse]

Okay... I found this memes... But they're so silly and funny I just have to show these. This memes were made by @the-victor-brothers, so shout out to her!

[There are more but unfortunately I can only do 10 at a time. I'll send the rest of them once you've respond to this.]

Cuddlepile

Alice: [snorts] These are some very good memes, yes. @the-victor-brothers did an excellent job. Though I do believe you uploaded the "ruined dinner" one three times...

Victor: [laughing softly] On the other hand, telling the town crier that I ruined dinner with an argument is definitely something my mother would do three times in a row. I didn't realize I had so many, uh, interesting facial expressions, though...

Smiler: You do, and it's great. You are very meme-worthy and we love you for it.

[guliexe]

—EXTRA HELP 18+

Hirota Riki/Maki x Tutor!Female!Reader — University AU

warnings/tags: enemies to lovers (kinda), slow burn, angst, tutor!reader, dom!maki, reader is kinda dramatic, bad boy!maki, texting, making out, dry humping, praising, oral (m & f receiving), face fucking, dacryphilia, cum eating, fingering, dirty talk, unprotected sex, p in v, finger sucking, bulge kink kinda, multiple orgasms

♡ you agreed to tutor the campus bad boy—now you're tangled in his sheets, and maybe his heart too.

w/c: 12.5k (no proofread)

There were a few things everyone on campus knew about Riki. First, he didn’t care about school. Second, he didn’t care about girls. And third, he definitely didn’t care about you. He was the kind of guy who never showed up to lectures but still had his name shouted across the quad. The kind of guy who could be seen with a new girl every weekend, yet never seemed attached to any of them. You’d catch glimpses of him outside the dorms, leaning against his black car, hands in his pockets, always smirking at something like he was in on a secret the rest of the world had missed. His reputation wasn’t subtle either. Everyone knew he smoked and partied. Everyone knew he fucked. And everyone knew he didn’t try—at anything. Especially not uni. You, on the other hand, were practically invisible compared to him. You were a normal student. Smart, yeah—but not some overachiever robot. You had friends, you went out every now and then. But you didn’t play around when it came to school. You worked hard for your grades. You showed up and gave a shit.

The only time Riki ever acknowledged you was to throw a lazy smirk your way during a lecture—usually after interrupting the class with some half-assed question or sarcastic comment. You didn’t know if he did it to get under your skin, or if he even knew who you were. Either way, it worked. You hated him. His cockiness, his stupid pretty face, the way he acted like the world owed him something. You hated the way he stretched his legs out under the desk, the way he always leaned back in his chair just enough to make you pray it’d finally tip over. You hated how his voice always carried—low, rough, lazy—like nothing ever really demanded his full attention. But most of all, you hated how aware of him you’d become. It wasn’t on purpose. You didn’t mean to notice the way his sleeves were always pushed up just enough to show the veins in his arms, or how he had a habit of playing with his hair when he was bored. It didn’t matter. You noticed anyway. Just like you noticed the way girls always giggled when he passed, how they looked at him like he was something dangerous they wanted to touch anyway. And he let them. All of them. Because Riki didn’t care about anyone.

Which is why it made absolutely no sense when your professor sat you down after class and said, with complete seriousness,“I’m assigning you as Riki’s tutor.” You blinked. “Wait—what?” “He’s failing. If he doesn’t pass the next exam, he’ll be dropped from the course.” You stared. “And you think I’m going to save him?” “I think you’re capable. You’re sharp, patient, and you don’t fall for bullshit. He might actually learn something.” You huffed. “He doesn’t even bring a pen to class.” “Then bring two.”And just like that, you were stuck. After what your professor told you, you knew better. If Riki was gonna pass anything, he needed more than a miracle, he needed someone to drag his lazy ass to a table and force information into his head. And apparently, that someone was you. So after your last class, you went looking for him. You heard loud laughter coming from behind the law building—that kind of laughter, the kind that usually surrounded him like secondhand smoke. You followed the sound, and sure enough, there he was. Leaning against the wall with a few of his friends, half a joint in between his fingers, wearing a loose hoodie, baggy jeans sagging, like he hadn’t just missed another full day of lectures. He was mid-convo when he spotted you walking up, and his smile deepened. “Well, well,” he drawled. “Didn’t think I was on your hunt list.” You ignored the chorus of curious glances from his friends and came to a stop in front of him, arms crossed.

“We need to talk,” you said. “Sounds serious.” He didn’t move, just tilted his head and looked you up and down like you were something unexpected. “Should I be scared?” “Only if you like failing.” That made his smirk twitch. “Cute.” You sighed. “Professor told me to tutor you.” “Cool.” He shoved his hands in his hoodie. “Tell her thanks, but no thanks.” “She said you’re going to fail if you don’t.” “And?” “And,” you said sharply, “she’s giving you one chance. Me. You either take it or get dropped from the class.” He stared at you for a second, then leaned off the wall just enough to step closer. “Let me get this straight,” he said. “You came here to give me homework?” he says, taking a hit of his joint. “I came because I actually care about this class. Unlike you. And i had no other choice.” “Aw,” he cooed. “You care about me.” You gave him a look so flat it could kill. “This isn’t a joke.” “No, but you are,” he said with a little grin. “You think I’m gonna suddenly turn into a straight-A student because some stupid girl from the front row gives me lessons?”

You froze. Your jaw tightened as his words sank in, slow and sour. Stupid girl. The phrase echoed in your head like it was meant to bruise. You didn’t say anything for a moment, just stared at him, arms crossed tighter, a bitter fire creeping up your spine. Riki took another drag, watching you through the smoke. Then you spoke. “Say that again,” you said quietly. Not weak quiet—sharp quiet. Dangerous quiet even. “Call me stupid one more time.” His smirk faltered. Just a little. “I didn’t mean it like—” “Yes, you did,” you snapped. “You meant it exactly like that. Because it’s easier to act like this doesn’t matter than admit you’re scared you’ll fail.” His brows lifted slightly. “Scared?” “You think no one notices, but we all do. You never stay in one place. You never try. You’re so busy pretending nothing matters just in case something actually does.” Riki blinked. You stepped forward, chin lifted. “So go ahead. Keep acting like you’re too cool to care. But don’t waste my time if you’re not going to show up.” There was silence. His friends were watching now, but you didn’t even glance at them. Your eyes were locked on him, and for once, Riki didn’t have a snarky comeback. He just stared at you like you’d taken all the wind out of him. He dropped his joint and stepped on it. “Damn,” he muttered, glancing away. “You’ve got a mouth on you.” You turned to go. “Forget it. I’ll tell professor you refused.”But before you could take another step, his voice stopped you. “Library,” he said. You turned your head just enough to see him scratch the back of his neck, eyes half-lidded. “I’ll be there.” You narrowed your eyes. “When?” “Tuesday,” he muttered. “Four.” You didn’t smile. Didn’t thank him. You just nodded once, “Don’t be late.” Riki rolled his eyes. “Can’t wait.” And as you walked away, you didn’t look back, though if you had, you might’ve seen the way he watched you go. Like you weren’t stupid at all. Like you were the first person who’d ever actually told him the truth.

Tuesday came, and he was twelve minutes late. You’d already found a spot in the far corner of the library, tucked away behind tall shelves and low lighting, where you could actually focus without distractions. Except he was the distraction. And he wasn’t even here yet. You were just about to give up and text your professor when you heard it—The soft creak of shoes and the low scrape of a chair being pulled out behind you. “Relax, I’m here.” You turned. There he was, backpack slung over one shoulder, black tank top, tousled hair falling messily into his eyes. He dropped into the seat across from you, one leg sprawled out under the table, arms resting lazily on either side. He looked…good. And you hated that you noticed. “You’re late,” you said, crossing your arms. He gave a slow shrug. “Only by a little.” “Twelve minutes is not ‘a little.’ “Wasn’t gonna show at all, honestly,” he muttered, pulling out a notebook that looked barely touched. “Consider this progress.” You bit back a comment and opened your textbook instead. “Fine. We’ll start with the basics. What do you remember from last lecture?” Riki blinked at you. “…We had a lecture?” You inhaled sharply. “Okay. Great. Starting from zero.” He smirked at your expression, leaning forward slightly. “You’re kinda cute when you’re stressed.” You didn’t dignify that with a response, just shoved the textbook closer to him. “Read this. Then answer the first two questions.”

He groaned but leaned in anyway, eyes skimming the text like it personally offended him. You watched him from the corner of your eye—how he chewed his bottom lip when he concentrated, how his fingers tapped idly against the table. After a few minutes, he spoke. “This is so boring,” he said. “How do you not fall asleep doing this?” You sighed. “Because I care about my grades. And my future.” He leaned back again, chair creaking. “Mm. Nerd.” “Degenerate.” He grinned at that. “Big words, tutor girl.” You rolled your eyes, but your mouth twitched anyway. Despite everything, his attitude, his laziness, he was at least here. And somehow, that was already more than you expected. You tried to focus. Tried to walk him through the basic concepts, tried to be patient when he interrupted with sarcastic questions or dramatic sighs. But as time passed, something shifted. He started paying attention—really paying attention. His posture changed, and his jokes softened. Every once in a while, he’d ask a real question. And you’d answer. And for a second, it almost felt normal. Like he wasn’t the guy you used to hate and glare at across the classroom.

You were just mid-sentence, pointing out something in the textbook, when you realized how close he’d leaned in—his shoulder brushing yours ever so lightly, his scent suddenly very real. Warm. Clean, with a hint of something smoky underneath. You cleared your throat, “…Anyway, that’s why the theory matters.” “Mhm,” he murmured. But he wasn’t looking at the page anymore. He was looking at you. You tried to ignore it—his eyes on you. Tried to focus on the text, on the notes you’d scribbled in the margins earlier, but it was hard to concentrate with Riki that close. His knee brushed yours under the table and neither of you moved. Not right away. “You’re not as boring as I thought,” he said suddenly. You raised an eyebrow. “Thanks?” “Not a compliment.” But he was smiling, a little softer than usual. You rolled your eyes again, looking down at the book. “Well, you’re exactly as frustrating as I thought.” “Hot and frustrating,” he said, leaning back just enough to throw you a cocky grin. Your face heated before you could stop it. “Focus.” “I am focused.” You gave him a flat look. “Fine.” He leaned in again, this time closer than before, the air between you thinning by the second. “But you have to admit something.” You blinked. “What?” “That you think I’m hot.”

Your jaw dropped slightly. “I literally never said that.” “You didn’t have to,” he said, smug. “You’re blushing.” “I’m not—” you fight back. “You are.” You looked down, closing the book in frustration. “This is impossible.” “Relax,” he said, voice lower now, amused. “I’m just messing with you.” But there was something in his eyes. Something that made your stomach twist a little. You stood up quickly, grabbing your pen and textbook, stuffing them back into your bag with a little too much force. “I think we’re done for today,” you said, avoiding his gaze. “You should go over that again on your own.” “Wait, what?” he sat up straighter. “Why—” “I’ll email you the practice sheet later.” You turned too fast, one hand still shoving your notebook into the bag—so fast you didn’t see the chair leg sticking out from the side of the table, or the way your foot caught on it. Your balance slipped before you could catch yourself. “Shit—!” A pair of hands grabbed your waist instantly, pulling you forward with a sudden jolt of strength, and the next thing you knew, your palms were planted on the table, on either side of him. He’d caught you. Except now, he was half-seated on the edge of the table, and you were leaning over him—face inches from his, chest almost pressed to his, breath caught in your throat. You froze completely.

So did he. One of his hands was still on your waist. The other had found the small of your back, fingers curled into the fabric of your sweater like he’d done it without thinking. His mouth was slightly parted, and up close, you could see everything—his frowned brows, the slow rise of his chest under his hoodie, the flicker of something behind his eyes that made your skin burn. “You good?” he asked quietly. You nodded. You thought you nodded. It was hard to tell with the way your heart was pounding in your ears. “Didn’t know you wanted me that bad,” he said, the smirk returning. You exhaled a sharp breath and pushed yourself off him fast, standing up straight, smoothing your hair back like that somehow made things less awkward. “You’re impossible,” you muttered, flustered. But he didn’t move. He just stayed there, eyes still on you, lips curving up at the edges like he was holding back something else. “You always this clumsy?” he asked. “Shut up Maus.” He chuckled warmly and leaned back against the table like he hadn’t just caught you in the most intimate, accidental moment of your life. “Same time tomorrow?” he asked, like none of it had happened. You grabbed your bag and turned away, hoping he couldn’t see the heat rising in your cheeks. “We’ll see.”

You didn’t even want to go, but your friends insisted. Said you’d been cooped up too long with your nose in textbooks. That you needed to “unclench” for one night. That you were too pretty to waste another Friday night at home. So here you were, packed into someone’s dimly lit house, music thumping through the floorboards, cheap liquor in your cup, and the smell of weed floating through the halls. You weren’t even three steps in before you saw him. Riki. He was leaning back against the kitchen island like he owned the place, black denim slung low on his hips, showing the band of his boxers, silver earring catching the light. A red Solo cup dangled lazily from his fingers as he laughed at something the girl next to him said. She was blonde, pretty, definitely more his type than you. She said something, and he smirked, the kind of smirk that tugged at one corner of his mouth and made your stomach flip. You told yourself not to look. You told yourself not to care. But it was hard not to notice the way her hand was already on his arm. Or the way she was leaning in like she knew he’d let her. Your chest tightened. “C’mon,” your friend tugged your sleeve. “Let’s get drinks.” You followed numbly, the burn of jealousy hot in your throat. You just needed to get away from that view. Grab a drink, breathe, pretend Riki wasn’t the only thing on your mind even here, in a room full of people you didn’t know or like. You reached the kitchen just as that same girl turned, laughing at something he said, and crashed straight into you.

Cold, sticky liquid splashed across your chest and soaked into your top. The drink hit your skin with a sudden shock. You gasped, stumbling back as your friend cursed under her breath. “Oh my god,” the girl said, blinking wide eyes at you. “I didn’t see you. Shit, I’m—” She cut off when she recognized you. Her lips twitched, like she almost smiled. Of course she knew who you were. The nerd. The tutor. The girl Riki had to be paired with. You could see it all click behind her eyes. “I didn’t mean to,” she said again, too casual. “Hope that wasn’t, like… expensive.” You stood there frozen, drenched and embarrassed, your cup long gone and your pride somewhere under the sink. Riki finally turned around, eyes narrowing the second he saw you. You weren’t sure what expression crossed your face, but whatever it was, his changed too. The lazy smirk was gone. He looked almost…irritated. “You good?” he asked, directing it at you but stepping away from her. You swallowed and nodded. “Yeah. I’m fine.” Your friend was already trying to dab your shirt dry with a crumpled napkin, but the damage was done—the fabric clung to your chest, translucent in the worst places. “I need to go change,” you mumbled.“There’s a bathroom upstairs,” Riki said, already moving to lead the way. You hesitated, then followed. You didn’t miss the way the other girl watched him go, arms crossed tight.

The hallway was quieter than you’d expected. The bass from the party thudded faintly below, muffled by the walls, and the air up here felt cooler, calmer. You followed a few steps behind Riki, arms crossed over your chest, trying not to focus on the way your shirt clung to your skin. He stopped at the end of the hall, tapping the door beside him. “You can clean up here.” You reached for the handle, but he didn’t step away—just looked down at you, quiet. His eyes flicked briefly to your shirt, then back to your face, unreadable. “You good?” he asked, voice low. You nodded, too fast. “Yeah. Just cold.” He blinked slowly, like he didn’t believe you but wasn’t going to say it. Then he pulled his hoodie off over his head—some black oversized thing with faint white lettering on the chest—and held it out. You hesitated. “You don’t have to—” “Just take it,” he said.

You took it. His fingers brushed yours for a second, and your stomach flipped. You ducked into the bathroom and shut the door, locking it behind you before facing the mirror. The damage was worse than you thought. Pink drink soaked through your top and dried in a sticky pattern across your chest. Your bra showed clearly through the fabric, and your skin was flushed, not just from embarrassment, but…something else. Something about the way Riki had looked at you downstairs. The way his eyes narrowed when that girl leaned in. The way he didn’t say anything—but still didn’t look away from you either. You exhaled, peeled off your shirt, and pulled his hoodie over your head. It was soft, loose, and smelled faintly like him—cologne and laundry detergent. Then, a knock. “Still okay in there?” You cracked the door open and peeked out. He was still there, leaning against the opposite wall with his hands in his pockets. His eyes slid over you slowly, landing on the hoodie. “Looks better on you.” You rolled your eyes, trying not to smile. “You’re so annoying.” He tilted his head.

“You say that a lot.” “That’s because it’s always true.” He pushed off the wall, stepping closer. “Mm.” His eyes flicked down to where the sleeves hung past your hands. “You kinda look cute like that though.” You froze. The hallway suddenly felt too warm. “I—I just didn’t want to walk around soaked, that’s all.” “Didn’t say you did.”His voice was different now, lower, like he was playing with you. Teasing, but not in a way that begged for a fight. Just enough to make you want to look away. You didn’t, though. You kept your chin up, even as your heart pounded. Then he stepped even closer, slightly closing the door. There was barely any space between you now. You could feel the warmth of him, see the little mole on his cheek, the slight curve of his mouth like he was holding something back. “You’re quieter when you’re embarrassed,” he said softly. “I’m not embarrassed.” “You keep lying to me.” You huffed and tried to look away, but his hand came up to brush your jaw, guiding your gaze back to him. Your breath caught. He didn’t say anything else. Just looked at you for a moment too long, eyes flicking from your eyes to your lips. It was like something cracked in the air. Like gravity shifted and pulled the two of you closer. Then— Knock knock knock. “Hey! You in there?” your friend’s voice. “Everything okay?” You both jumped slightly. Riki blinked, then let out a quiet breath and took a step back. You swallowed hard. Your heart still hadn’t settled. “I’m fine,” you called out. Your friend’s voice faded as she wandered off, muttering something about looking for the snacks. Riki glanced at you, then gave a soft laugh under his breath—barely audible. “What?” you asked. He shook his head. “Nothing.” You narrowed your eyes. “You think this is funny?” “No,” he said, turning to head back toward the stairs. “I think you’re cute when you’re shy.” You stood frozen for a second before following him. You didn’t know what that almost-kiss was. Or if he even meant it to happen.

The library was quiet in that particular way it always was around exam season. Clicks of keyboards, the occasional squeak of a chair, a cough far off in the distance—nothing loud enough to cut through the silence fully. You walked in with your bag slung over your shoulder, already regretting agreeing to meet so late in the day. The low golden light pouring in through the windows made everything feel softer, more intimate. And he was already there. Riki sat at one of the corner tables, sprawled out like always, one arm resting lazily over the back of the chair, the other flipping through a worn notebook. His hoodie sleeves were pushed to his forearms, earbuds on, and he looked up just as you spotted him. Your heart jumped embarrassingly fast. You looked away just as quickly, trying to act like you hadn’t seen him, hadn’t noticed the way his gaze flicked down briefly before returning to your face. You approached the table, setting your bag down carefully, avoiding his eyes. “You’re late,” he said, voice low, teasing but quiet enough not to draw attention. You sat down, pulling out your notes. “By like three minutes.” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Three minutes too long.” You didn’t answer. You couldn’t—not without sounding weird. Not without blushing, and unfortunately, that was already happening anyway. You could feel the heat climbing up your neck, and you kept your eyes glued to your notes, pretending to find something very important on the page. Riki didn’t say anything at first. You could feel him watching you, and it made every movement harder, flipping pages, uncapping your pen, sitting still.

“So,” he finally said, dragging the word out a little. “You’re gonna look at me today, or is this gonna be a tutoring session where you just talk to your highlighter?” You inhaled sharply. “I’m looking at you right now.” You weren’t. He leaned closer over the table, just slightly—just enough for his voice to lower even more. “You’re not,” he murmured. “You haven’t looked at me since Saturday.” You gripped your pen tighter. “I’ve been busy.” His voice was calm. “You’ve been nervous.” That made your eyes snap to his—huge mistake. Because when you finally looked at him, everything you’d been trying to suppress came rushing back. The party. His voice in the hallway. The hoodie. His fingers brushing your face like he’d done it a thousand times. And how close he’d gotten, how close you both were. You blinked and looked away again, this time staring at the desk. “See?” he said, like he’d just won a bet. You crossed your arms. “Can we just study?” A pause. Then a soft chuckle. “Sure,” he said. “Go ahead.” You continued explaining formulas you’d explained before, stumbling through examples you knew by heart. You could feel your ears burning. Every time you tried to focus, you felt his eyes on you. Not in a harsh way—just steady, present, he was listening to more than just your words.

Somewhere between chapter five and question eight, the space between you and Riki had gotten… smaller. Not suddenly. Slowly, gradually. At first, you’d sat across from him, the wide wooden table serving as a comfortable barrier. But then he’d leaned in to point something out in your notes, and you’d shifted a little closer so you could see better, and then somehow—without really realizing it—you were sitting side by side. Close enough to feel the heat off his arm. Close enough that when you leaned in to write something, your knees almost touched. You tried to ignore it. Tried to focus on the numbers, the words, anything but the way your body felt like it was betraying you. Every time he shifted or breathed, you flinched just slightly, like your whole system was on edge. He, of course, looked completely relaxed. Riki leaned back lazily in the chair, hoodie rumpled, one leg stretched out beneath the table. He was listening, sure, but mostly watching. And it didn’t help that every time you stumbled over a word or lost your place mid-sentence, he smirked like he knew exactly why. “You’re better at this than me,” he murmured at one point, tapping your notebook. “But you still sound nervous.” “I’m not nervous,” you said quickly.

He raised a brow. “No?” “No,” you insisted, not looking up. He didn’t press. He didn’t have to. Because a few minutes later, it happened. Your hands had both been resting on the desk for a while—yours still, careful, his loose and spread out like he had no idea what personal space meant. Little by little, as the session stretched on, the distance between your hands started to shrink. Neither of you moved them on purpose, but still, closer…closer… until your pinkies brushed. You barely breathed. And then, very softly, he let his pinky drift back over yours. Just a whisper of a touch. He didn’t look down, didn’t say anything. Just started brushing his finger along the side of yours in slow, lazy strokes. Like it was nothing. You sat completely still, the air suddenly too warm and too thin all at once. You could feel it—his finger, featherlight, brushing against you again and again. And you could feel his eyes on you too, even if you didn’t dare look. Your heart thudded in your ears. “Riki,” you breathed, voice barely above a whisper. He tilted his head slightly, waiting. You blinked down at your notes. Then back at your hand. You were so warm you could feel your pulse in your fingertips. “Um,” you said quickly, standing up a little too fast. “Okay—that’s it for today. You did good.” He blinked, surprised. “That’s it?” “Yep.” You were already gathering your stuff, heart in your throat. “We’re done.” “Thought we had twenty more minutes.”

You shrugged, trying not to let your voice crack. “Bonus points for finishing early.” Riki didn’t move. Just watched you with that slight smile, soft and unreadable. “…You sure?” You zipped up your bag, cheeks on fire. “Mhm.” You could feel his eyes following you as you adjusted the strap on your bag, willing your hands not to shake. You hadn’t meant to end the session that abruptly, but the second his finger touched yours, you’d short-circuited. You needed air. Distance. Something. “Let me walk you home,” he said suddenly. You looked up. “What?” Riki stood slowly, slinging his bag over his shoulde, “It’s late. I don’t like the idea of you walking alone.” “I—I live like five minutes from here,” you said, voice catching in your throat. “So I’ll walk for five minutes,” he replied easily, already heading toward the library exit. You didn’t know how to argue with that. Not when he held the door for you without another word, stepping into the cool night air like it was completely normal for him to be doing this. The walk was quiet at first. The world around you was still, humming softly with distant streetlights and the sound of your shoes on pavement. He walked close, not quite touching, but near enough to make you hyper-aware of every step, every breath. “I thought I made you nervous,” he said after a beat. You glanced at him. “You do.” His mouth twitched. “Then why’d you let me walk you home?” You hesitated. “Because you insisted.” That made him laugh quietly, under his breath. “Right.” A moment passed. You reached your building, the familiar sight of the front steps making your stomach flip. “Well,” you said, slowing down. “Thanks for, um—”

“You always end things before I’m ready,” Riki said, cutting in. His voice was low, not teasing exactly—just honest. “In the library. Just now.” Your breath caught. “I didn’t mean to.” He stepped in front of you, just a little. Blocking your way, gently. His eyes found yours, and this time, you couldn’t look away. You could feel it—the same current that had been building since the party, since the near-kiss, since today in the library when his pinky brushed yours and it felt like your whole body forgot how to function.

The next thing you knew, he was stepping forward—slow, like he was giving you time to stop him—and then his hand brushed yours again, gently. His fingers slipped between yours, warm and steady. You froze. And then, slowly, you looked up at him. He was closer now, so close you could see the shadow of his lashes, so close you could smell him. His thumb moved, brushing across your knuckles, barely there. “Don’t run again,” he said, quietly. Your breath caught. “I’m not—” But before you could finish, he leaned down and kissed you. Soft. Warm. His lips pressed to yours like he’d been thinking about it for days—like he’d been holding it back all this time, waiting for the right moment, the right breath, the right look. It wasn’t rushed nor messy. Just his mouth on yours, tender and certain, like he already knew you’d kiss him back, and you did. Your fingers curled into his hoodie. You tilted your chin just slightly. The second your lips moved against his, he sighed, soft and low, and kissed you deeper. Still gentle, but slower now, hungrier. His other hand came up to your waist, not pulling, just there, grounding you while the world tipped sideways. When you finally pulled away, your face was hot. Your whole body was hot. You blinked up at him, breath shaky, lips tingling. He stared at you for a long second, thumb still brushing your waist. “Now you can go.” You wanted to say something. But all that came out was a tiny, flustered sound that made him grin—soft and smug and barely there. You slipped out of his reach, shy all over again. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, pretty.” he said, still watching you. And you were pretty sure you floated all the way to your door. The door clicked softly behind you, but you didn’t move. You just stood there in the quiet of your apartment, blinking into the dark like your brain hadn’t caught up to the fact that yes—he kissed you. For real, this time. Not almost. Not nearly. He kissed you and it didn’t feel like a one-time thing. It felt like a beginning. Your fingers came up to touch your lips. Still warm. You didn’t know how long you stood there before you finally moved, slipping out of your shoes, bag sliding off your shoulder as you made your way toward your room on shaky legs. The silence was deafening now, but your heart was still pounding—like it didn’t want to forget the feel of his mouth on yours. Or the way he looked at you after, like he was proud of himself for getting under your skin. You got ready slowly, almost on autopilot. Changed into a tank top and sleep shorts, washed your face and lied in bed.

Riki

u home safe?

♡

You

yeah :)

it was nice tonight

♡

Riki

yeah

i wanna kiss u again

♡

You

me too :(

wanna see u

can i tutor u tmr?

♡

Riki

yes bby

i’ll see u tmr

have a gn <3

♡

You

goodnight riki :)

You’re five minutes early. The wind bites at your cheeks as you walk toward the library steps, hugging your jacket tighter. You check your phone, scrolling to Riki’s last message—“meet u outside <3”—sent fifteen minutes ago. Your heart’s light. You didn’t even bother to hide the smile on your face the whole way here.But then you look up, and freeze. He’s standing by the stone wall near the entrance, just a few steps away. You see his hoodie, the slight slouch in his posture—familiar and stupidly comforting. But he’s facing someone. A girl. Her hands are on his shoulders. And before you can fully process what’s happening—she leans in and kisses him. And Riki doesn’t push her away. Not right away. Not fast enough. Not before your stomach drops. You don’t realize you’ve made a sound until Riki turns his head sharply, his eyes locking with yours. It takes a split second. Your feet move before your brain does. You turn around and bolt. Down the steps, past the trees, across the yard. Your throat is tight. You hate that your eyes sting already. You blink hard, trying not to cry in the middle of campus like an idiot. “Wait—Y/N!!” His voice slices through the air, panicked, but you ignore it. You keep walking, fast, arms wrapped around yourself like they might hold your chest together. But then you hear it again, closer this time—“Stop—please, wait—” His fingers close around your wrist, gentle but firm. “Y/N, wait—just let me—” You yank your arm away like it burns. He flinches. Your voice comes out thin and raw. “Don’t.” He freezes in front of you, breathing hard, eyes wide. “It wasn’t what it looked like.” You laugh. It sounds broken, bitter. “Right.” “She kissed me,” he says quickly. “I didn’t—she just—” “It’s fine.” You cut him off, voice sharp. Your hands are trembling, and you shove them into your pockets so he doesn’t see. “We weren’t anything anyway.” Riki blinks.

Like he didn’t expect that to come out of your mouth. Like he can’t quite believe you said it. You swallow hard, your throat tight. “You should go back to her.” His face falls. He actually looks hurt. “Don’t say that.” You step back. “Why not? She obviously wants you. You let her kiss you. Maybe she’s more your type.” Riki shakes his head, jaw clenched. “You don’t get it.” “No, I don’t,” you snap. “And I don’t think I want to anymore.” You don’t wait to see the way his expression shatters. You turn and walk off again, fast, ignoring his voice behind you, ignoring the way your chest feels like it might crack open. You just need to be alone before the tears fall for real. You make it home before the tears really start. But once the door shuts behind you, it’s over. You sink down to the floor, your bag still slung over your shoulder, and bury your face in your hands. God. You were so stupid. You knew what kind of guy he was. Riki—the bad boy, the campus heartbreaker, the one who didn’t give a damn about anyone. He skipped class, flirted for fun, kissed girls at parties and it meant nothing. So why did it feel like he meant it with you? Why did it feel real? You curl up on your bed a while later, your throat raw from crying, your pillow damp. Your phone lights up every few minutes—his name over and over.

Riki

calling…

calling…

missed call (8)

missed call (9)

missed call (10)

You ignore every one. Until you can’t anymore. The eleventh time, you finally press accept. You hold the phone up to your ear, but you don’t say anything right away. There’s silence. Then, with your voice hoarse and unsteady, barely more than a whisper, “…what do you want?” There’s a beat of silence on the other end. Then a low, broken breath. “Fuck—baby,” Riki says, his voice wrecked. “Please don’t hang up.” You bite your lip hard, trying not to let the tears start again. Your voice shakes anyway.“Why are you calling me?” you whisper. “Didn’t get enough with her?” “No,” he snaps, immediate. Desperate. “It wasn’t like that. She kissed me—I didn’t—I didn’t kiss her back. I pushed her off. I swear to god, baby.” You close your eyes, heart pounding painfully. “I saw you.” “And I saw you walk away with tears in your eyes, and it fucking killed me.” His voice cracks slightly. “I didn’t even get to explain. I—I never wanted her. I only wanted you.” You’re silent. Your breathing’s uneven, and your throat aches. “I know what it looked like,” he says quietly, “but you have to believe me. You’re the only one I’ve been thinking about since that first day. You—fuck, baby, I’m so sorry. I’d never do that to you. Never.” Your fingers curl around the edge of your blanket. “…you don’t get to call me baby right now,” you whisper, trying to sound angry—but it comes out weak. Wounded. Riki breathes in, like he’s trying to steady himself. “Okay. Okay, I won’t. Just…let me talk to you. Please.”

There’s a long pause. You finally speak again, small and broken, “I thought you actually liked me.” “I do.” His voice rises, full of emotion now. “I do like you. You think I’m lying? You think I’d show up to every tutoring session, text you every night, call you ten times just to hurt you? I didn’t even want anyone else to look at me once I had you.” “…then why did she kiss you?” “I don’t know. I don’t care. I was waiting for you.” Another tear slips down your cheek. You press your lips together. “…I need to go.” “No—wait. Please.” His voice is rough. “Don’t hang up. I’ll come over. Just let me see you. Let me explain everything. I’ll wait outside if I have to. Just—don’t shut me out.” You’re quiet. Your heart hurts too much to answer. “…can I come?” he asks again, softer this time. “Just to talk. Please.” You sniffle, wiping your cheek. Your chest aches, your throat thick. “…Fine,” you whisper. “Just to talk.” You can practically hear the relief rush out of him through the phone. “Okay. I’m coming. I’ll be there in ten.” You hang up before you can second guess it.

It’s quiet when you unlock the door for him. You don’t say anything. Just step aside and let him in, eyes puffy and downcast. Riki steps in slowly, eyes locked on you like you might disappear. His expression is tense— jaw tight, hair messier than usual, like he’s been running his hands through it nonstop. There’s something panicked in his eyes, but soft, too—like he’s afraid to break you any further. “Hey,” he says, voice low. You step back and wrap your arms around yourself.

“Talk, Riki.” He swallows and nods. “I didn’t want her to kiss me. I swear.” His voice is quiet, but every word is urgent. “I was waiting for you. I was looking for you. And then she—she just came up out of nowhere and I was shocked. I pushed her off right away. I told her I wasn’t interested. I only wanted you.” You shake your head, looking away. “Why would she even think she could do that?” “I don’t know. I don’t talk to her. She just… she saw me waiting and came over. I swear on everything, I never touched her.” Your bottom lip trembles. Riki steps closer, but not too close. “You can be mad,” he murmurs. “I’ll take it. I’ll take anything. Just—don’t think I didn’t mean everything I said to you. Because I did. Every text. Every time I called you baby. Every time I kissed you. It was all real.” You blink fast, eyes blurring again. “I thought I was just another girl to you,” you whisper. “I thought you were just…playing with me.” His face breaks, jaw clenched like he’s in pain. “You’re not just another girl. Don’t say that,” he breathes. “You’re the only one who ever made me nervous. The only one who made me feel like I actually wanted to try.” You stare at him, tears slipping silently down your cheeks. “…I liked you so much,” you whisper. “I still do.” Riki closes the distance now, carefully. Slowly. His hand lifts, tentative, before he touches your face, wiping your tears gently with the side of his thumb. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I’m so fucking sorry I hurt you.” You nod, lips trembling.

“I was scared,” you admit softly. “I didn’t think someone like you would ever really care about me.” His thumb grazes your cheekbone, and he exhales shakily. “I care about you more than I know what to do with,” he says. “I haven’t even been able to sleep since I saw you cry.” Your eyes finally meet his. His are red-rimmed now too. “Can I hold you?” he asks quietly. You nod. He steps forward and wraps his arms around you—firm and warm, like an anchor—and you bury your face into his chest. He kisses the top of your head. Again and again. And you cry, just a little, into his hoodie. You pull away slowly, your heart thudding so loud you’re sure he hears it, his hands still holding onto your waist like he’s afraid to let go. “…What are we, Riki?” you whisper. He exhales, eyes closed. “I don’t know,” he murmurs, voice low and honest. “But I know I want you. And only you.” You’re quiet for a moment, lips tugging into a small, shy smile. “So I’m your girlfriend now?” you ask, soft and teasing, but there’s something hopeful under it. A little nervous. Like you’re still afraid he might not want that. His eyes open slowly, meeting yours like they never want to look away again. “Yeah,” he says, no hesitation. “You are.” He cups your face and pulls you in for a kiss. So soft and sweet, and you melt from his touch. Riki pulls back slightly, his lips curved in a soft smile but with a hint of hesitation in his eyes. “I should probably go…” he murmurs quietly. You blink, a little disappointed but trying not to show it. “Okay,” you say softly. He steps forward and wraps you in a warm hug, holding you just a moment longer than expected. Then he pulls back gently, brushing his lips against yours in a light, lingering kiss. “I’ll see you soon,” he whispers. With one last look, he turns and leaves you standing there, the quiet night wrapping around you as you watch him go, and then you head inside, alone with your thoughts, ready to sleep.

The morning sun cast a soft glow over campus as you walked side by side with Riki, the usual hum of students around you fading into the background. The tension from last night’s conversation had shifted something between you, something subtle but undeniable. As you both made your way to class, your fingers brushed unintentionally at first. Then, just as casually as if it were the most natural thing in the world, Riki slipped his hand around yours, intertwining your fingers. Your heart stuttered, but you didn’t pull away. Instead, you let yourself fall into the warmth of his touch, feeling the silent declaration it carried. People passing by glanced at you, whispering or maybe just staring, but Riki didn’t care. His grip tightened ever so slightly. The confidence in his stride made you think that maybe, just maybe, he was serious about this—about you. When you settled into class, Riki sat beside you. Not the usual casual distance but close enough that your shoulders nearly brushed. The air between you was thick with unspoken words and nervous excitement. You caught his eyes once or twice, and each time there was a flicker of something soft, something more than the usual teasing smirk. After class, you headed to grab lunch together.

The cafeteria was buzzing with the midday rush, but the two of you found a quiet corner table. The conversation was easy—more natural than you expected. He asked about your plans, your classes, even cracked a few jokes that made you laugh despite yourself. Then, between bites, Riki’s expression shifted to something more serious, though still laced with that effortless charm. He nudged you with his elbow and smirked. “Hey, you never came to my dorm,” he said, voice low enough that only you could hear. You blinked, a little caught off guard. “Yeah? I guess you never invited me.” “Well,” he said, tightening his grip on your hand just a little, “how about we do tutoring there today? Change of scenery. I promise it’ll be better than the library.” You hesitated for a moment, the idea stirring something nervous but exciting inside you. But the way he looked at you like he wanted you there, made the decision easy. “Okay,” you said with a small smile, “I’m in.” Riki grinned, his fingers squeezing yours gently as you both stood up and left the cafeteria. The campus felt different today, like the world was shifting just for you two.

You stood outside Riki’s dorm, shifting on your feet as you knocked on the door, and it opened almost instantly. He leaned against the frame in a black tee and sweats, hair messy and a little damp from the shower. His gaze landed on you, and stayed. His eyes dragged down your body, slow and deliberate, to the way your tank top clung perfectly to your body and tits, and your soft thighs exposed for him to see from your shorts. He tilted his head slightly. “You wore this for tutoring?” he asked, voice low, licking his lips without even thinking. Your heart stuttered. You blinked. “This isn’t the library,” you said quietly, trying to sound casual. “I wanted to be comfortable.” But your voice faltered near the end, and your fingers instinctively pulled at the hem of your tank top—smoothing it, adjusting it, anything to distract from how hot his stare was making you feel. Riki grinned a little, like he noticed. He stepped aside, letting you in, but his gaze never left your back as you walked past him into his dorm. “You look good.” he murmured behind you, door clicking shut. His room was a little messy—papers scattered on his desk, a jacket thrown on the chair, sheets pulled halfway off his bed. It smelled like something warm and clean and distinctly him. You turned around slowly to face him, already feeling the tension creep up your spine. “We’re actually going to study this time, right?”

Riki smirked, moving closer and letting his fingers brush against yours as he took the textbook from your hands. “You’re the tutor,” he said softly, “but you’re the one distracting me.” You both sat side by side at the desk in his dorm, the soft scrape of your notebook sliding across the surface breaking the quiet.

Riki had his phone face-down for once, pen in hand, brows pulled together as he tried to focus while you explained the material to him. At first, he did try, really. He nodded when he understood, wrote a few things down, even asked a decent follow-up question. But after about ten minutes, you started to notice the shift. His eyes wandered. You were mid-sentence, pointing to a diagram in the textbook, when you caught him staring—not at the page, but at you. Your tank top had slipped slightly as you leaned forward, and his gaze dipped, slow and deliberate. He didn’t even try to hide it. His eyes trailed over the curve of your chest, down to your exposed thighs where your shorts had bunched up a little from how you were sitting. You shifted, subtly pulling your hem lower, but it didn’t matter. Riki licked his lips. Your voice faltered for a second. “Riki…” “Hm?” he looked up, completely unbothered, like he hadn’t just spent the last few seconds undressing you with his eyes. “You’re not listening.” “I am,” he murmured, lips twitching into a grin. “I’m just…multitasking.”You narrowed your eyes. “Multitasking?” “Yeah. Learning,” he said, tapping the side of his head. “And appreciating the view.” Your cheeks burned. “You’re such an ass.” He leaned back in his chair, still staring at you like he was starving. “You wore that to tutor me, and now you expect me to focus?” You crossed your arms, but the movement just made his gaze drop again—and linger.

“I didn’t wear it for you,” you muttered, defensive. He smiled, cocky. “Sure you didn’t.” You grabbed your pen again, trying to return to the material. “We’re not doing this.” But even as you flipped the page, you could feel the weight of his gaze—slow, heavy, like he was touching you without laying a finger on you. And when you dared to glance at him again, he was already leaning closer.

You cleared your throat, trying to focus on the page in front of you—desperately ignoring how close Riki had gotten. “Okay,” you started, voice a little shaky, “so if you look at this equation, the—” His hand slid onto your thigh. You froze. He was still looking at the book, acting completely casual as his fingers brushed over your skin slowly, warm and lazy through the soft fabric of your shorts. His touch was featherlight, almost teasing. You glanced at him, heart stuttering. “Riki…” “Keep going,” he said, voice low. “I’m listening.” But you could barely remember what you were supposed to say. You tried to explain again, stumbling over your words as his hand dragged just a little higher. Your breath hitched. “Y-You need to factor the—uh—the terms that—” “Am i making you nervous, baby?” he murmured, finally looking at you, his lips close to your ear. You tried to pull it together. “You need to focus.” He chuckled, eyes heavy with heat. “Don’t wanna.” Before you could protest again, he leaned in, pressing his lips softly to the side of your neck. You gasped—his hand inching higher, fingers drawing lazy circles over your inner thigh now. “Riki,” you whispered, your voice barely holding steady. “Hmm?” he mumbled against your skin, kissing just under your jaw now. “Thought you wanted to tutor me, baby.” You did. But not like this. Not when his touch made your brain melt and your heart beat out of rhythm.

Your mind blurred, your voice giving out in a breathy stutter as Riki’s lips ghosted over your skin, his fingers inching higher up your thigh. “Yes” you whispered, barely managing to meet his eyes. “This is supposed to be tutoring…” He looked at you slowly, like he already knew you were too far gone to stop him now. His hand slid from your thigh up to your waist, gripping you gently but firmly. “You’re not exactly stopping me.” You opened your mouth to argue, but the words never made it out—because he kissed you. Deep and unhurried, his mouth moved against yours like he’d been craving it all day. You whimpered softly against his lips, your hands clutching at the edge of the desk. He pulled you closer by the waist, tugging you effortlessly toward him until you were sliding off your chair and onto his lap. A surprised gasp escaped you, your hands bracing against his shoulders, your thighs straddling his as he settled you in place. Your heart was racing—every nerve lit up. “Riki…” you murmured, breathless, as he leaned up to kiss you again, slow and deep, like he was trying to make you forget everything but the way he tasted.

His hands slide up your thighs, slow and warm, while his mouth moves against yours like he can’t get enough. You’re straddling his lap, knees on either side of him, and you can feel how hard he is beneath you. His kiss deepens, tongue brushing yours, and when he finally pulls away to catch his breath, his lips don’t go far. They drag down your jaw, toward your neck. You gasp softly when he kisses just below your ear. “You’re shaking,” he murmurs, lips ghosting over your skin. His hand slips under your tank top, just brushing along your waist—barely touching. “Is it me?” You don’t answer, just whimper softly, your fingers tightening in his hair. He chuckles lowly against your throat, the sound smug and warm. His hand slides higher up your back, teasing the hem of your bra. His mouth finds a spot on your neck that makes your hips twitch—he groans. “You were so focused,” he says, kissing down your neck, “and now look at you.” You gasp as he grinds your hips down gently against him, slow and in control.

His mouth moves over yours slow and deep, his tongue coaxing soft whimpers from you between breaths. And then he pulls back just enough to look at you. His voice drops, low and serious, rough at the edges. “Want me to stop?” You’re already trembling a little, lips swollen from his kisses, breath shallow in your throat. But you don’t hesitate. You shake your head, soft and certain. “No,” you whisper. “Don’t stop.” He lets out a low groan, hands flexing around your thighs. “Fuck,” he mutters, almost to himself, before dragging you into another hungry kiss. Your fingers wind into his hair, tugging gently, making him moan against your mouth. His hands slide up the backs of your thighs, underneath your shorts, pulling you closer until your hips press flush against his. You gasp into his mouth, and his fingers tighten on your waist. He starts guiding your hips slowly against him, making you grind right onto his hard-on through his sweats. “Just like that, baby,” he murmurs, lips brushing over your jaw. “You feel that?” Your cheeks burn. You nod, barely holding back the moan that threatens to slip out. You keep moving, grinding softly on him like instinct, heat curling low in your stomach with every roll of your hips. “So cute” he breathes, mouth dipping to slowly kiss your neck again. “You look so good on my lap, princess.”

Your hips roll harder on him now, the friction making your head spin. You whimper into his ear, breathless, and he curses under his breath as your hand slides between your bodies. You palm him over his sweats, slow and uncertain at first, your fingers trailing along the thick shape of him, teasing. His hips twitch up into your touch, jaw clenched as he watches you with fire in his eyes “Fuck, baby—” he groans, head falling back slightly. You feel the way he breathes harder, the way his thighs tense under yours, how his eyes go heavy-lidded every time you grind down just right. Then, with one last soft kiss to his lips, you pull back. Your cheeks are flushed, lips parted, and your voice is a little shaky when you whisper,“Can I…?” You glance down at his lap, then back up at him through your lashes. “I wanna… try.” Your hands slide down his chest as you slip from his lap, sinking onto your knees between his legs before you can second-guess it. The carpet is soft under your bare knees, your hands resting on his thighs, breath shallow. Riki stares at you, stunned. Eyes wide, lips parted. “Wait—” he says quickly, breath catching in his throat. “Are you sure, baby?” You nod, biting your lip. Your fingers toy with the waistband of his sweats, looking up at him with those big, desperate eyes that have always made him weak. “I want to,” you whisper, soft but certain. “wanna make you feel good.” He exhales shakily, like he’s trying to hold himself together, one hand running through his hair as he mutters, “Jesus, baby…you’re killing me.”

Your fingers tremble just slightly as you reach for the hem of your shirt. You pause for a second, nervous but determined, before tugging it up and over your head, baring yourself to him. Your cheeks burn the moment his eyes drop to your chest. The soft blue lace of your bra clings to your skin, delicate and pretty, and Riki looks like he’s about to lose it. His breath catches. “Baby…” he murmurs, voice suddenly lower, rougher. His eyes drag slowly over your figure like he’s trying to memorize the sight. “You wore that for me?” You nod shyly, glancing down, arms folding just a little in front of your body. You’re flustered, nervous, but you want him to like what he sees. You want this to be good for him, unforgettable.

“I just…I wanted to look good,” you admit softly, peeking up at him. “For you.” He leans forward immediately, grabbing your wrists gently and pulling your hands away from your body. “You look perfect,” he says, dead serious. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful, baby.” Your stomach flutters wildly. Slowly, carefully, you bring your hands back down to his lap. You hook your fingers under the waistband of his sweats, heart pounding, and tug them down along with his boxers, just low enough to free him. He’s hard, big, leaking, and your lips part slightly at the sight of him. Riki watches your every move like he’s in a trance, his fingers twitching on his thighs like he’s trying so hard not to grab you. “You sure you’re okay?” he asks again, eyes searching yours. “You don’t have to do anything—” You nod quickly, still on your knees in front of him, lips brushing softly against his lower abdomen as you glance up at him through your lashes.

Your lips part just slightly as you lower yourself, your breath warm against his tip. You press a soft, open-mouthed kiss to it, delicate, teasing. Then you do it again, and again, letting your tongue flick out for the smallest kitten licks. Riki groans low in his throat, his hips twitching. “Fuck…” he breathes, eyes locked on you like you’re the most unreal thing he’s ever seen. His hand goes straight to your hair, fingers threading into it with a firm grip. “You’re such a tease, baby.” You let your lips wrap around him fully, just the tip, sucking softly, slow and sweet. His hand tightens in your hair, and you hear the shift in his breath—rougher, needier. “You look so good like this,” he mutters, his voice dark and low. “My little tutor girl taking my cock in her pretty mouth.” You whimper softly around him, cheeks flushed. You hollow your cheeks and take a little more, your tongue swirling around him, and his grip tightens just slightly. “Shit, baby—doing so good for me,” he groans, watching you bob your head just a little. “You like this? Like makin’ me feel good, hm?” You hum around him, eyes fluttering shut for a second before looking back up at him through your lashes—submissive, eager, needy for his praise. His other hand comes up, fingers gently cupping your jaw to guide your pace as he breathes hard, watching every slow movement of your lips. “You gonna take more for me, baby?” he asks, voice gravelly. “Gonna let me fuck that sweet mouth a little?” And the way he says it, low and filthy, makes your thighs clench together as you nod, obedient and breathless, letting him guide you deeper.

His grip in your hair tightens just slightly, and he watches with hooded eyes as you take more of him in. You feel the gentle pressure as he begins guiding your head, slowly at first, pushing you down, then letting you come up for air, only to press you back down again. “Just like that, baby,” he breathes, voice rough and low. Your lips stretch around him as he slowly builds a rhythm, hips barely moving, letting your mouth do the work, guided by his hands. You moan softly, the vibrations making him hiss through his teeth. Tears prick at your eyes from the effort, trailing down your cheeks as your jaw strains, your tongue flattening against the underside of his cock. Your hand wraps around the base, stroking what you can’t fit, trying to keep up with the pace he’s setting. “Fuck—look at you,” he groans, breath catching. “Crying on my cock like that. Letting me fuck your mouth.” His voice sends a pulse of heat through your entire body. His thumb wipes a tear off your cheek almost sweetly, his other hand never loosening from your hair. “Such a good girl,” he murmurs, voice dark and full of heat. “Doing so good for me.” His hips stutter as your hand works him faster, your warm breath ghosting over his tip. “Fuck, baby—” he gasps, hips twitching forward as his cock throbs against your hand. “You’re gonna make me cum… shit—”

You look up at him with those big, glassy eyes, tongue out and waiting, so eager, so needy. “Holy fuck—” Riki growls, head tipping back. “You really want it, don’t you, baby?” You nod, whining softly as you stick your tongue out further, your other hand bracing against his thigh. That’s all it takes. With a low, guttural moan, he finishes—hot spurts painting your tongue, your lips, and spilling down onto your chest. He watches, completely wrecked, as you keep still for him, letting him make a mess of you. When it’s done, you slowly close your mouth and swallow with a soft gulp, then open up again and poke your tongue out to show him—empty now. His breath catches. “Fuck,” he mutters, eyes dark as he cups your jaw in his palm. “You swallowed all of it?” You nod shyly, cheeks flushed, tongue still out just a little as you blink up at him. He lets out a low, breathless laugh, thumb brushing over your bottom lip. “My good fuckin’ girl,” he murmurs. “Look at you…” He leans down and kisses you—slow, filthy, and deep, tasting himself on your tongue. “It’s my turn to make you feel good now, yeah?” he whispers against your lips. You’re still catching your breath when he pulls you up gently, his hands firm on your waist as he helps you sit on the edge of the desk. Your legs dangle, a little shaky, but Riki steps between them, caging you in with his arms as he leans down to kiss you, slowly and hungrily. His hands slide up your sides, over the soft fabric of your bra, cupping your breasts as he groans into your mouth. “You’re unreal,” he murmurs, pulling back just enough to look down at you. “Bend over for me, baby.” You blink up at him, heart fluttering. “Here?” He just smirks, brushing your hair behind your ear. “You heard me.”

Your cheeks flush, but you nod, sliding off the desk slowly, turning around. You lean over it, bracing your hands flat on the surface, your breathing already unsteady. You feel his eyes on you, burning hot as you reach down and slowly start tugging your shorts and panties down together, baring yourself inch by inch. A soft sound leaves his throat behind you, low and rough. “Fuck…” You hear the rustle of his clothes behind you, his hands moving to gently push your legs further apart. His palms ghosts over your ass, then down your thighs, teasing. He leans down, lips brushing the back of your neck. “So cute, bent over my desk like that…” You gasp softly as you feel him bend down behind you, one hand sliding up your thigh, the other gently gripping your hip to keep you steady. Your bare core clenches at the thought of how close he is, how exposed you are. “Riki—” you whisper, voice shaky, head turning over your shoulder. “You’re…really close…” He hums, amused, lips brushing your inner thigh. “That’s the point, baby.” You bite your lip, face burning as you hide it in the crook of your elbow. It’s so intimate, his breath on your bare skin, his fingers teasing the softness of your inner thighs. He leaves sweet kisses on your ass and thighs, before bringing his fingers on your folds, making you whine. He moves them slowly, gathering your wetness, from your hole to your clit and you can’t help but moan. Then you feel it—his tongue. A soft, slow lick up your folds, warm and deliberate. You let out a whimper, legs trembling as your knees almost buckle. His grip tightens on your hips. “Stay still, princess.” he murmurs, low and commanding.

You nod, helplessly, barely able to breathe as he buries his face between your thighs. His tongue moves with devastating skill, licking, sucking, flicking against your clit until your thighs start to shake. You let out soft, desperate moans, biting into your forearm to stay quiet, but he hears them. “So fuckin’ sweet,” he mutters into your heat, tongue diving deeper. “This all mine now, yeah?” “Y-Yes,” you whimper, gripping the edge of the desk. “Riki…oh my god…”

He groans into you, clearly turned on by your reaction, and his hands squeeze your hips tighter as his tongue flicks again and again against your sensitive clit. His hand slides between your legs, and you gasp when you feel two fingers press against your entrance, slick and slow as they slide in deep. Your back arches, mouth falling open as a moan escapes. “R-Riki—” He groans, thumb coming up to press soft circles against your clit as his fingers curl inside you, stretching you open. “Fuck…so warm” he mutters, mouth hot on your inner thigh again. Your legs are shaking, your hands gripping the edge of the desk like it’s the only thing keeping you upright. The combination of his fingers and mouth has your brain melting, every movement making you whimper, every moan just making him move rougher, deeper. “You gonna come on my fingers, baby?“ he murmurs, voice teasing now, cocky. You let out a broken moan, unsure if you can even speak, and that just makes him smirk. “Too dumb already?” he coos. “My smart little tutor girl can’t even think straight anymore.” He pumps his fingers a little faster, curling them just right, and you nearly collapse against the desk.

Your body tightens, every nerve on fire as his fingers work magic inside you. Warmth spreads fast, rushing through your core like wildfire. A broken moan escapes your lips, and you shudder, trembling against the desk as your release crashes over you—hard and sudden, stealing your breath away. Riki’s tongue flicks up eagerly, licking every drop of your juices with deliberate care, his eyes dark with hunger and satisfaction. When he pulls back, he wipes his mouth, voice low and rough.

“Fuck, you taste so good.” He stands, towering over you, already hard again. His hands move quickly, slipping off his shirt, then lowering his sweats, letting them fall to the floor with a soft thud. Without breaking eye contact, he lifts you up with ease, carrying you toward the bed. He lays you down slowly, lips trailing over yours in a heated kiss that melts the space between you. His mouth moves down to your neck, leaving soft, urgent kisses that make your breath hitch. His hands roam boldly, cupping your breasts firmly, thumbs brushing over your sensitive skin. “Off.” he murmurs low and commanding. You fumble shyly but obey, sliding the straps down your arms until your bra is discarded. Almost immediately, he’s sucking on your bare skin, his mouth teasing and claiming your breasts, while his hips grind hard against your heat. The friction sends a jolt straight through you, making your body arch toward him, hungry for more. He trails his mouth over your breasts and collarbones, leaving dark, bruising hickeys that bloom deliciously against your skin. You reach down, fingers tracing the sharp lines of his abs, feeling the heat and strength beneath your touch. Then your hand slips lower, cupping the hard length pressing against his boxers. “Please, Riki,” you whisper, your voice trembling with need. “need you now.”

“Fuck..” He slowly lowers his boxers, freeing himself as his eyes never leave yours. His hand wraps around his thick length, pumping a slow, steady rhythm. He carefully spreads your legs further , his fingers grazing your inner thighs, sending shivers racing through your body. A soft whimper escapes your lips as he slides his length up and down your folds, coating himself in your wetness. Slowly, he moves lower, and enters you slowly, inch by inch, stretching you out so deliciously. The stretch makes you cling instinctively to his neck, a low whine slipping from your throat as your body adjusts to the fullness when he bottoms out. His hands keep caressing your thighs, steady and reassuring, as he begins to slowly move. He starts slow, each thrust deliberate and measured, watching you closely as your soft moans and whimpers fill the room. The way your body reacts to him, the way you cling to him, only fuels his desire. “Doing so good, baby—fuck,” he growls, his voice low and possessive. “Such a good girl for me.”

His hands grip your hips firmly, steadying you as he picks up the pace, moving deeper and faster now, the intensity rising with every stroke. Without breaking rhythm, he lifts one of your legs and rests it over his shoulder, giving him better leverage and letting him reach places that make you gasp uncontrollably. “So tight and warm for me, so perfect.” he murmurs against your skin, lips brushing your neck. His praise sends a heat rushing through you, mixing with the pleasure and making your breath hitch as he drives into you harder. The stretch still making your body tremble with every push. He watched you through half-lidded eyes, and without breaking pace, he reached up, bringing two fingers to your lips. “Open,” he murmured, voice rough.

You parted your lips obediently, shy but too far gone to resist. He slid his fingers onto your tongue and you immediately began to suck, lashes fluttering as your gaze lifted to meet his. The sight of you like that, lips wrapped around his fingers, eyes wide and watering, making his skin all wet and slick with your spit, made him groan low in his chest. “Fuck, baby,” he hissed. “Look at you.” You whined around his fingers, his pace quickening slightly, hips snapping harder into yours. The new angle made your body jolt, sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine. He pressed his palm to your tummy, just above where he was buried deep inside you, and you gasped when you felt the pressure. “That’s me, huh? You feel me here?” he gritted through clenched teeth, pressing down just a little more. You nodded frantically, drool slipping from the corner of your mouth around his fingers. The feeling, the pressure, the fullness, it was overwhelming in the best way. Your free hand moved up into his hair, tugging gently, grounding yourself. His fingers slipped from your mouth and your lips chased after them, your breath shaky and desperate. Pressing firmly on your tummy, you choke on a moan, your entire body tightening around him “There, baby?” he murmurs huskily. You nod, heart pounding in your chest, cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and desire. Slowly, shy but full of trust, you reach up, one hand brushing against his jawline, the other still entwined in his hair. Your touch is gentle, almost worshipful as you caress his face and run your fingers through his hair.

“My smart boy,” you whisper, your voice trembling slightly. Something snaps in him when he hears that. His pupils dilate, breath hitches, and the rough edge to his expression softens for a split second before darkening with raw hunger. He groans low in his throat, voice rough and desperate “Holy fuck” he breathes softly, tugging you impossibly closer, fingers tightening their grip on your body. “Say it again, baby. Say it—tell me I’m your smart boy.” Your heart races, the power of your words sinking deep into him. He buries his face in your neck, teeth grazing the sensitive skin, marking you with his need and possessiveness as he pounds harder, deeper. You’re a moaning mess, breath shaky and heart hammering as you look up at him with glassy, half-lidded eyes. Your fingers brush tenderly along his jaw and cheek, tracing every sharp line of his face. “You’re my smart boy, baby,” you whisper, voice thick with need and affection, the words tumbling out soft and shaky. He groans low in response, dick twitching inside you as he pulls you impossibly close, his voice rough and ragged. “I’m so close,” he pants, every thrust hitting deeper and harder. You bite your lip, desperate and breathless. “Me too, Riki…g’na cum,” you manage to say, voice barely audible. He brings his fingers down to your clit, moving them in slow circles, as you whine. Your body clenches around him, trembling as you finally reach your peak, a shuddering wave that makes you cry out softly.

He holds you tight through every pulse, never slowing, until with a final, guttural groan, he pulls out and spills himself over your heat, watching intently as it drips and glistens, messy and sticky. His hand gently cupped the back of your leg as he lowered it from his shoulder, eyes never leaving you. You whimpered softly at the emptiness, the overstimulation making your thighs twitch. Riki leaned down to press a lingering kiss to your inner thigh, then another to your tummy, and finally your lips. “You okay?” he whispered, his voice much softer now, low, raspy, but sweet. You nodded, but your lashes fluttered tiredly and your bottom lip trembled just a bit. It had been a lot. “Hey, hey,” he murmured, brushing your hair back from your sweaty forehead. “You did so good, baby.” Riki sat back on the bed, chest rising and falling with every breath, hair messy. His eyes traveled over you, slowly, like couldn’t believe you were real. You lay there catching your breath, hair a messy halo on the pillow, lips kiss-swollen and parted, your skin kissed red with hickeys across your collarbones and tits. The soft sheen of sweat clung to you, and remnants of his cum still lingered on your chest and cunt, glistening faintly in the low light. His eyes trailed lower and he groaned, running a hand through his hair as a crooked smile tugged at his lips. “Shit,” he muttered, voice rough but amused, eyes locked on you. “I’m gonna get hard again.” You giggled, still breathless, hiding your face behind your hands, and he leaned forward, pulling them gently away so he could see you. “Don’t hide from me, princess,” he whispered, brushing a strand of hair off your cheek. “You’re so fucking cute.”

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[eddiesghxst]

CRUEL INTENTIONS - part three: eden

18+ — MINORS DNI

pairing: steddie x innocent/shy!reader

summary: you're a new student at All Saints Catholic Academy and Steve and Eddie have every intention to sink their teeth into you.

contains: enemies to lovers between steddie, blasphemy/religious talk, smoking and alcohol use, blood kink, chasing kink, masked man, depictions of a panic attack, depictions of a threesome, descriptions of heavy guilt, corruption kink, mentions of subtle bullying, mentions of shitty parenting, slut shaming, SMUT - 18+ , oral (m and f receiving), cum play, cheating (not on reader), NON-CON/DUB-CON, and stevie having gay panic <3

word count: 9.9k

WARNING: this fic contains dark themes including - NON-CON/ DUB-CON, manipulation, coercion, and corruption. Please fully read the content warnings before proceeding. Again, THIS IS A DARK FIC, do not read it if you're not comfortable with it!

I previous part | next part I

I series masterlist | -main masterlist- l

Steve has a very strict night routine.

Five days out of the week, Steve has rugby practice until 7. Most boys on the team simply take a quick shower and call it a night, but no, Steve has a step-by-step routine that he follows each night— not even Nancy could sway him from the path of his night routine.

Because you see, when Steve was younger, his parents were prissy and precise. Everything was done on time, and every hour had a task. If Steve were to ever stray from that schedule, he’d be made to feel like a failure. It’s ingrained in him, woven into his DNA, this life of doing things by order. 

So it’s a little shocking (and concerning) that Steve immediately threw his nightly ritual out the window the second Eddie told him about tonight.

And it seems as if this will be a reoccurring theme with you— Steve altering his life just to get a glimpse of you. Because ever since you came along, it’s like Steve’s entire world has been flipped and lit on fire. He can’t stop thinking about you. Can’t stop wanting you. Has to hold your name on his tongue when he’s balls-deep in Nancy because, fuck, you’re the only thing he wants right now. He feels bad, but not enough to stop.

“You’re not fucking her yet, but she has to at least get used to you being around.”

Which is true, Steve supposed. Eddie is many things, but a liar is not one of them. If Steve hopes to ever swing his dick near the pot of gold between your legs, then he has to at least work a little bit for it. This way, he doesn’t have to worry about you running off and telling someone about it.

Trust. Though a distorted version from your point of view, it is still an essential part of this plan.

Steve doesn’t know much about said plan, which is kind of his fault. Because when Eddie approached Steve after a particularly rough day at practice, Steve kind of told Eddie to fuck off, so Eddie just left him with a quick, “If you ever plan on fucking her, then I suggest you haul your ass to my room tonight, asshole.” So, Steve had no choice but to follow through on that.

Because Steve will never get through to you without Eddie. Because Eddie is the catalyst. Eddie is the bridge that Steve needs to reach you— which is annoying because now when Eddie’s got his fist wrapped around his cock, and he’s thinking about you and how pretty you looked with his cum coating your lips, how good you taste, and how pretty you sounded— those familiar brown eyes slip into frame and suddenly Eddie is right there along with you— lingering. Like a phantom.

Steve can’t stand it.

But he needs you. He needs you almost more than he needs air. Because Steve usually gets whatever he wants in the blink of an eye, but you…

You’re forbidden fruit.

And sitting next to you, so close to you, with you squirming and avoiding the screen that displays some cheap porno— Steve thinks he might explode.

You turn to Eddie, shy and scared, digging your fingers into his shirt and tugging. “Eddie, I don’t—“ “Shh, bunny. We’re watching a movie. Didn’t I already tell you not to talk?”

You frown, big, wide eyes soft and wet with tears. You don’t like this; that much is obvious. And Eddie’s struggling to keep a grin off his face like a cocky bastard.

There are soft moans spilling from Eddie’s TV. Two guys, one girl, and oddly enough, the girl looks like you. Steve thinks Eddie did that on purpose, and he can admit it was clever, even if you might be slightly too dumb to notice.

They have the girl on a cheap leather couch, splayed out on her back, with one guy stuffing his face between her legs and the other guy thrusting his cock deep into her throat, wrapping a hand around the bulge in her neck. 

You press your legs together, shifting in your spot again, and Steve catches Eddie’s eye. Eddie subtlety nods towards your lap, giving Steve the green light (not that he fucking needed one), and Steve scoots closer to you.

Steve places a firm hand high up on your thigh, fingers spread deep into the insides of your thighs as he lowly says, “Sit still, sweet girl.”

You frown, caught between two walls with nowhere to go. Nowhere to run— scared little thing, you are.

Steve smooths his hand over your thigh, gently squeezing and molding your skin to his touch, soft and firm yet not enough to bring you pain— Steve doesn’t think he could ever hurt such a sweet thing like you.

The porno is in full swing now, the two men fucking the lady like it’s the last thing they’ll do, and you have big, full tears running down your face as Steve pinches your skin to open you back up. He slinks his hand higher, the lip of your skirt kissing against his wrist, making way for him. His pinky dusts across the hem of your panties, wet as he had expected— all of you wants him, even when you act like it doesn’t.

You gasp and tremble between the boys; your eyes squeezed shut with tears rolling down your cheeks thick as rivers— you look like a small bunny cornered by prey. Precisely what you are.

Eddie coos, shifts so he’s facing you more comfortably. He gently holds your face and coaxes you into opening your eyes. “You like it when Stevie touches you, don’t you?” He says.

You open your mouth to respond, but Eddie quickly butts in, “Ah ah…” He raises a finger to his lips, reminding you that he doesn’t want a single word falling from your lips. And you listen so well— without a single protest— Eddie’s done well on you thus far, but Steve likes to believe you have an obedient nature either way. 

Sentenced to silence, you shake your head no, and Eddie laughs. Soft and deep, brown eyes swimming with hunger and patience, “No?” He raises an eyebrow, tilting his head to the side. “You think I don’t know about you cumming on his tongue?”

You tense at that, body rigid beneath their touch as you turn to gaze at Steve with wide eyes, eyes swimming in guilt and the realization that Steve had lied to you. Your frown deepens then, more tears coming and Steve is now the one cooing. “Of course, I told Eddie, bunny. You knew that, though, didn’t you?” He teases.

You let out a muffled sob, squeezing your eyes shut again as tears fall. “You knew Eddie didn’t say you could open your legs for me, and I would have to tell him about your behavior.” He chastises. “So gullible, gonna get yourself in trouble being so stupid, sweet girl.” He gently coos. Your chest stutters with uneven breaths, and Steve’s cock throbs in his sweats.

With you being so unstable, Steve is able to slip his fingers past your panties without a fight. He slips his fingers through your wet folds, warm and sticky, leaning forward to press a kiss under your jaw as you twitch and squirm beneath his touch.

“Look at you,” Eddie prowls, “Shaking for his touch. Again. Did I ever say he could touch you?” 

You huff, eyebrows pinched in frustration as you shake your head. “Then why do you want it?” Eddie asks. Steve sinks a finger into your warm cunt, wetness spilling around his knuckles as your thighs tremble. “I—” Eddie clicks his tongue, reminding you of his rule of no talking.

Steve crooks his finger up, searching for that gummy spot of yours, leaning forward to press a kiss to your neck as you struggle against him. “God, if I knew you were such a slut I wouldn’t have wasted this much time on you,” Eddie says.

You break your rules then, voice pleading and sad as you claw at Eddie’s shirt, “I’m not! I’m not, I swear. I didn’t know!” You sob. Steve watches in awe at the way you crumble for Eddie. You’re so desperate to please him, to be kept under his arm of security, unbeknownst to you that he’s the one you should be running from.

Steve is jealous… but he wants to learn.

“Oh, you didn’t know?” Eddie widens his eyes. You shake your head, hips twitching when Steve begins dragging lazy circles over your clit. “H-he told me you said it was okay.” You frown. “Who did? Stevie?” Eddie asks. You nod, and Eddie’s gaze flickers to Steve, a ghost of a grin dancing in his eyes.

“I don’t remember saying that, sweetheart.” Steve lies. 

“Stevie never said that. So, either you’re lying, or Steve is lying. Are you calling Steve a liar, bunny?”

You look frazzled, seconds away from bursting into an uncontrollable fit of tears as Steve continues playing with you. And the truth is Steve is a liar. He lied to you when he said Eddie gave him the green light to get between your thighs. But you know better than to ever point fingers— again, a product of Eddie’s skilled teachings.

You shake your head no with a frown, and Eddie hums. “Well, did you like it? When Steve licked your slutty little cunt?” Eddie asks.

You’re visibly panicked, wide eyes darting to Steve, knowing he will tell the truth if you lie. There is no way out but through for you, and you know it. You shamefully nod, and Eddie hums again. He pets a gentle hand over your hair, letting you nuzzle into him when you begin to tremble with pleasure. “Would you like him to do it again, bunny?”

And if you’re smart enough, you’ll understand that even if you say no, Eddie will somehow coax you into splitting your thighs open for Steve again. You contemplate longer than Steve would appreciate, but the second he pulls his fingers from you and dips them into his mouth, your eyes flash with this little look that Steve has never seen from you.

Lust.

Steve sucks the juices off his fingers lewdly and greedily, never pulling his gaze from you. You watch, wide-eyed with trembling limbs and a pouty lip, Steve wanting nothing more than to kiss them until they’re sore.

Apprehensive yet interested, you nod your head shyly, and if the two boys hadn’t been watching you like a hawk, they probably wouldn’t have even caught it.

Eddie slinks his fingers through your hair, knuckles gently curling at the root as he drags you closer, kissing you filthy and raw. You whine, thighs closing around Steve’s wrist when he finds his hand back on your warm skin. It’s low against your lips, but Steve hears Eddie tell you, “Come here.” And you follow like an eager puppy wanting to please their owner.

Steve can taste you on his tongue, an overwhelming feeling to taste more as he watches Eddie move you around like you’re a lifeless doll. He places you with your back to his chest, your thighs pressed against Eddie’s knees as he gently tips your head back to kiss you again. Steve stands, shrugging off his jacket and letting it drop off somewhere he could care less about because Eddie is splitting your legs apart, presenting you nice and pretty for Steve.

Eddie’s whispering things in your ear, things Steve can’t hear over the low sound of sex from the TV, but he sees you squirm and pout, and he can only imagine he’s saying something about how dirty you are. How cute you are, all slick and ready for someone to put their hands on your greedy cunt. 

Eddie’s eyes flicker up to Steve’s as his hands trail down your sides, thick and decorated fingers pushing your skirt up and petting over your clothed cunt before hooking his fingers in the of the material and pulling it to the side. 

Steve’s hunger grows like an angry beast. Purrs deep in his chest, and puffs out so big it nearly breaks his ribs. He wants to take you right here and now. Press your thighs out as far as they’ll go, lick into your mouth and shove his cock deep into your cunt. It’ll hurt, probably be a fight to fit every girthy inches of him in, but he’ll make it work. You’re a fighter, anyway. Strong, even if you don’t know it.

“Well, don’t make her wait, Stevie. Look at her, she’s dripping.” Eddie purrs, fingers sliding through your wet folds, parting his fingers into a ‘V’ to show off your throbbing heat. 

Steve dips his knee onto the bed, leaning forward to rest on his stomach between your thighs. He takes you in, just as he did that day in the locker room, eyes casting over every piece of your pretty cunt and saving it to remember when he’s got his hand wrapped around his cock. Steve can smell you, drawing him in closer as you throb and a drop of slick slips from you. He groans, fingers gripping the back of your thighs, squeezing and molding you to his touch. 

“You want my tongue, princess?” He purrs. You whimper, shying beneath his gaze when he looks up at you from between your thighs. Steve blows cool air against you just to see you throb and squirm. You huff, lips pouting as you turn your head to look back at Eddie. Steve reaches forward, fingers gripping your chin to pull your face back down to look at him, “Don’t look at him, look at me.”

He runs a thumb over your lip, wet spit catching the pad of his finger. “Is he the one about to eat your greedy pussy?” Steve teases. You whine, shaking your head no. “Answer my question.”

Your hips squirm, halting when Steve’s fingers dig into your skin. Your answer comes shaky and shy, “Yes, please.”

“Good girl. Using your words,” Steve dips his thumb into your mouth, dragging it over your tongue, letting you get it nice and wet before he pulls away, pressing it to your clit. Your legs tremble, panting when he runs circles around the tight bud. Steve purses his lips, spit drooling from his lips to drip down onto your pussy before he leans forward and places his mouth over your pussy, hungrily lapping and sucking. 

“O-oh! Steve, I—” “Shh, shh. I want you to watch them.” Eddie speaks up, leaning forward to speak into your ear, directing your gaze to the TV. “Look at them. See how they’re using her? See how deep they’re fucking her, bunny?” He asks. You nod, Steve’s gaze fluttering as he devours you, fucking his tongue in and out of your warm hole. 

“You want us to do that to you?” Eddie asks, voice low and husky. It makes Steve’s cock throb in his pants. He thinks he hates it, but his mind is fuzzy enough with lust to ignore it. Steve grunts, nuzzling his face deeper into you, and your eyes widen at the words Eddie is saying. “I—” you huff, “I don’t know— s’so bad. It’s not right.” You slur under a whine. 

Eddie hums with a low chuckle, “Then how will you repay us for making you feel so good, hm?” His hands slip up your shirt, kneading at your chest and cracking a smile when you arch into his touch. Steve’s hips roll into the mattress, eyes rolling back into his skull at the pressure. 

“C-can’t, Teddy—” “But you want to. You want to be fucked, don’t you?” He purrs. You tilt your hips into Steve’s mouth, your body begging for more as you shudder between the two boys. You whimper, and Steve’s eyes are fluttering open, locking onto the view in front of him, your pussy fluttering against his tongue. You frown, your fists balled against the sheets as Eddie holds your chin, directing your gaze onto the TV. “See how much she’s enjoying it?” Eddie purrs into your ear. “See how thankful she is to be getting fucked well?”

You grimace at his words, your body melting into their hold with each passing second— Steve can practically see your brain melting out of your ears. You make the prettiest noises, and you move like you don’t know if you want more or less, but Steve doesn’t give you a choice as he tugs you impossibly closer, taking you for all you are. Eddie kisses your neck, wet and sloppily, and you whine like you hate it, but Steve can feel you pulsing around his tongue. 

“You should be thankful too, princess.” Eddie drawls into your ear, his hands still working beneath your shirt. Steve can’t help it when he reaches up and yanks at the buttoned half of your shirt, groaning into your cunt when you gasp and squirm. The sight of your tits spilling into Eddie’s palms drives Steve’s hips into the bed once more, desperate for some sort of pressure. 

Steve pulls away with a gasp, sinking a finger into your cunt as he looks up at you, his swollen lips parted and wet with your slick. “Go ahead then, doll,” Steve nods at you, “Thank us.”

Your chest rattles with a sob, and Eddie grins as Steve coos, “Say it, princess. Thank us for taking care of your slutty holes.” He demands. You cry out then, legs trembling when Steve brushes against that perfect spot, teasing it to keep you away from that release that you crave.

“T-thank you,” you breathe, eyes squeezed shut, your body tensed as you wriggle between them. Eddie growls, gripping your face, gritting into your ear as he speaks, “For what? What are you thanking us for?”

You gasp as Eddie’s teeth drag along your jaw, your eyes fluttering open to hazily look at Steve between your thighs, moaning when he slips in another finger. Your voice is heavy in shame, but you’re too fucked to refuse it as you say, “T-thank you… for taking care of my s-slutty holes.”

Eddie smiles, “Good girl. Let her cum, Stevie, she’s been so good.”

Steve’s mouth is back on you in record time, lapping and sucking and pulling you closer and closer to the edge until you’re crying out a sob so loud that Eddie has to slap a hand over your mouth. Your hips rise off the bed, and Steve pins them back down, groaning into you as he keeps licking you, your thighs closing around his head. And Steve loves it; he loves the feeling of your cute little thigh-high socks scratching up against his ears and your warm, wet skin on his tongue. Steve thinks he could die here, really.

Eddie’s cooing in your ear, telling you how well you did, how much of a good girl you are, and his gaze snaps down to Steve’s when he pulls away from you with a gasp, wiping his mouth and liking his lips like a lion that’s just demolished its prey. Steve sort of feels like one, honestly.

Eddie grins up at Steve, his eyes falling to the evident tent in Steve’s pants when he rises to his feet. You’re barely cohesive when Eddie lightly slaps your cheek a few times, “Wake up, bunny, we’re not done with your holes yet.”

Your eyes are blurred with pleasure when you blink them open, and Steve presses a palm to his crotch. You blearily blink at him, and he nods, “Come here.”

And like an obedient dog, you peel away from Eddie’s arms, your clothes disheveled and twisted as you crawl over to Steve. He reaches out, his hand slinking into your hair to drag you up until he can smash his lips onto yours, a hungry growl rumbling from his chest. Steve knows he should be more gentle with you, you’re such a fragile little thing, but the feeling of power that surges through him when he tightens his grip on your hair and leads you off the bed is damn near like a drug. He wants it in his veins all the time. 

You stumble off the bed, your socked feet knocking against Steve’s— it’s so fucking cute, Steve nearly coos. “On your knees. Get on your knees.” He orders. And again, like you were programmed for this, you fall to your knees, your hazy eyes slowly blinking as Steve sits at the edge of the bed and tugs his pants down. You watch as he wraps a hand around himself, stroking a few times, his hand still stuck in your hair.

Steve’s voice is kinder than his touch when he asks, “You remember what to do, princess?” Nodding with you when you respond, “Good girl, go on. Show me how thankful you are for me.” He says, and you shuffle forward to take him in greedily and sloppy, Steve’s eyes nearly rolling.

You suck him just as you did the first time, though it’s a little bit better than before; Steve supposes you and Eddie have been practicing more than enough. Even though you’re tired from your orgasm and your actions are less calculated, Steve finds himself enjoying it as if you were a pro.

Steve’s groans and mumbles of praise get closer and more slurred, and he supposes it was easy to tell how close he was because Eddie, a presence he had tried (and failed miserably) to ignore, steps into view right behind you, looking down proudly at his perfect project.

Eddie’s gaze holds a devious glare when he locks eyes with Steve as he sinks to squat next to you. He coasts a hand up your back, his fingers firm but gentle when they grip the back of your neck, his gaze finally leaving Steve to watch as your mouth greedily takes Steve’s cock in and out. And Steve is so close, and his body is so hot that he almost misses what Eddie says to you when he leans in— but Steve hears it loud and clear, “Don’t swallow. I want you to keep his cum in your mouth and show me, do you understand?”

And god, you fucking whimper and nod as best as you can, and Steve is a goner. And Steve usually cums a lot, sure. Nancy hates it, says it’s an inconvenience, but god, you take it like it’s nothing but a gift. You sit there, tear-streaked face, droopy eyes, and an open shirt as Steve cums in heavy spurts, coating every inch of your mouth as he curses. It’s so much that some of it spills out the side of your mouth, and the little bit that dribbles from his cock when you pull away lands on your chin, and Steve can’t help but tap his sticky tip against it.

Steve watches, blissed out and panting, as Eddie turns your face towards him. “Let me see, open your mouth.” He says, grinning when your lips part to show the thick mess in your mouth. “Good bunny.” He lowly hums.

And then, in the blink of an eye, Eddie leans forward, drags his tongue along the spilled cum of your face to lap it up before pressing his lips onto yours. Steve hadn’t seen it coming. Not at all.

He didn’t expect that he would be watching Eddie Munson eat his cum off your face tonight. He can see his tongue dipping into your mouth, lewd noises emptying into the air as he pulls Steve’s cum from your mouth and into his own. Yeah, Steve really didn’t expect that. And he doesn’t expect to feel his cock twitch at the sight of it either.

It’s disgusting, is what it is. Disgusting and downright debauchery, but Steve can’t look away, not even when Eddie pulls away and turns to lick his lips while gazing at Steve, a shit-eating grin spreading across his lips.

Eddie brings his thumb to wipe at the drop of cum that had been on the corner of his mouth before sucking it into his mouth— and Steve nearly cums again, and his cock throbs, and Eddie’s gaze flutters to see the way Steve’s dumb dick has filled with blood yet again. A small smirk rises on Eddie’s lips, and Steve can feel the heat rising in his cheeks— which is surprising, honestly, considering most of his blood is flooding downstairs. Eddie’s gaze flickers back to Steve’s wide eyes, and he finally says— “Not bad, Harrington.”

Steve nearly passes out.

What the fuck?

“Halloween is of pagan origin— therefore, we, as children of god, do not participate in any form of celebration on this day.” 

The week of Halloween has always brought an eerie feeling to you. Gorey movies and costumes of demons and distorted faces— it’s scary. Aside from the candy, you never understood why people loved the holiday so much. Your friends never understood your reasoning or why your parents would never in a million years agree to let you go trick or treating, but their judgment never bothered you enough to change your opinion.

The priest looks at the students, an unwavering expression of sincerity plastered on his face as he says, “Be wise with how you spend your time this weekend. There will be consequences for any of you who choose to participate in any activities pertaining to Halloween; am I understood?”

The room mumbles in agreement, as does yourself, and the priest nods before carrying on to close mass. Beside you, Nancy sits with her bible and journal in her lap; eyes cast forward on the priest. She’s been glancing over at Steve all night, watching him during prayer and nearly half of the service— you know this because you had been watching him right along with her, though your reasoning is not the same as hers.

Steve Harrington, star rugby player with his pretty brown eyes and honey-thick locks, was anything but kind when he pulled you aside before mass. He was greedy, possessive with his hold and grabby when he hiked your skirt up, pressed your face against the janitor's closet door, forced your thighs together, and rutted into them like a dog in heat. He had a rough practice, so he said. 

He apologized for being rough, said he didn’t mean it when he squeezed just a little too hard around your throat, and you all but sniffled and nodded and told him it was okay even though you were scared and your thighs now sting with friction burn. 

He had a tough day, and the least you could do was not make him feel bad about it. That being said, it doesn’t stop the stir of guilt that sat in your chest throughout mass. 

It’s hard not to feel guilty when your roommate's boyfriend's spend is sitting between your thighs, warm and squishy and tucked safely against your folds. It’s sickening, and it nearly makes you dizzy with shame. But Steve said it was okay, that friends do this thing, and Nancy understands; she would just rather not discuss it.

You could barely focus during mass, too busy trying to grasp what you and Steve had just done and trying desperately not to show it on your face. Despite your efforts, you can’t help but feel as if Nancy can see straight through you, and that’s why she's been watching him all night.

As soon as you’re dismissed, you begin working up the nerve to ask her, the words rolling around in your mind as you rise from your seat, but the second you turn to Nancy, she’s turning to go after Steve and you’re being tugged back by a firm hand.

“Where are you running off to, bunny? Don’t we have plans?”

You gaze up at Eddie, glancing over to watch as Nancy slinks out of the pew, and you nod, “Yes, but I—” “Then let’s go. I’ve got a surprise for you.”

Eddie all but drags you out of the chapel, tugging you along and slipping past the dark courtyard to get to the back of the dormitory. Nobody ever supervises the back of the dormitories. Eddie told you to always come through this route; that way, you can get into his room without a hassle. 

The path is dark, nothing but the moon and Eddie’s firm hand to guide you, and you try to focus on anything else but the snap of twigs beneath your feet and the burn between your thighs. However, the only thing that comes up in your mind is Nancy. 

“Um, Eddie,” you speak up. 

“What’s up, bunny?”

“I think… I think I may have upset Nancy…” You frown.

Eddie slowly pauses, turning to look at you, lips pressed in a firm line as his eyebrows furrow. “Did you say something to her?” He asks.

He’s towering over you, the darkness swallowing you both, exaggerating his stance. You feel like you’re drowning beneath him, sinking into the mud beneath your feet as you hastily shake your head no.

Eddie is so hard to read in this dim lighting, though he’s never been all that easy to read anyway. You can still hear a slight tone of relief when he says, “Good.”

Eddie turns and pursues the path, leaving you with panic and a racing heart. You didn’t say anything to Nancy— you made sure of it after Steve specifically sat you down and said you could never bring it up. But then, why could she not look at you all through mass? Why does it seem… tense between her and Steve? Are you to blame? Did you do something that may have upset her? 

How do you even ask without revealing the open truth?

The questions swirl in your head like a storm, grey and murky as they slink down your throat and spill into your chest, spreading and laying out with a weight that makes you feel as if the world has just crashed on you. 

You don’t realize you’ve made it to Eddie’s room until a plastic bag is shoved in your hands. You gaze at it briefly, shiny material crinkling between your fingers as you blink and glance toward Eddie.

Eddie nods, “Put it on.”

You step over to Eddie’s bed, put the bag on the mattress, and open it up to pull out the items inside. It’s an outfit, three items to complete a set of what looks to be a bunny costume if the bunny ears are any indication. The only problem, though is the dress, the main piece of the outfit, is incredibly short.

“I can’t wear this.”

You hadn’t noticed, but Eddie was busy getting dressed on the other side of the room. You look over at him, taking in his all-black attire and heavily swallowing when he glances at your laid-out costume. 

“Why not?” He asks. 

You glance at the dress before looking back at him, gesturing down at it as if it’s obvious, “Because it’s revealing!” You exclaim. 

Eddie rolls his eyes and resumes putting on the rest of his clothes, a long black robe-looking thing, “No, it’s not.” He responds. 

Your eyes widen as you look at the short dress, “Eddie, I-I’m not sure this will even cover my entire backside.” You shake your head. And when you lift it and turn it around, you realize that it definitely won’t— at least not comfortably.

“You’ll be fine. Other girls will probably be wearing something worse.” He dismisses. 

Your teeth gnaw into the soft tissue of your lip as you put the dress back on the bed, eyeing it with worry and dread. It’s… gross. Degrading and immodest in every sense of the word, yet Eddie, your friend, is asking you to wear it. You glance over at him, your world spinning again as you realize what this entire plan is: the costume and the urgency to leave all make sense.

You drag in a shaky breath, slinking your arms around your body as you take a step back, “I think,” you clear your throat before speaking louder to get your point across, “I think I’m gonna head to my room… Maybe study a bit and go to bed…” You softly say.

You step toward the door, not even glancing Eddie’s way because you know if you do, you’ll be stuck trying to please him. But Eddie moves quicker than you can, his hand pressing against the wooden door to stop you from opening it. 

“The dress is fine, doll.”

Your gaze dances up his frame, miles of black leading to his dark brown eyes. You want to be strong, put your foot down, and tell him no, but your tongue is tied. As it always is when it comes to Eddie.

You softly say his name, and he tilts his head, an ice-cold glare stuck on your eyes, daring you to say something more. Gravity pulls on your lips and your eyes, water threatening to spill down your cheeks when Eddie lowly and steadily says, “Go put on the outfit.”

You want to cry.

You want to wail and kick and scream until Eddie has no choice but to let you run to your room and stay there until Monday morning. You don’t want to be here. You don’t want to wear this costume you’ve been forced into, and you don’t understand why Eddie, who is supposed to be your friend, is being anything but friendly tonight. 

He doesn’t care that you didn’t want to wear the outfit. He doesn’t care that it’s revealing, that you feel uncomfortable, or that it’s hardly forty degrees outside and you’re shivering. He doesn’t care that you have to keep tugging the tiny dress down your thighs or that you’re practically stumbling over your feet with the heels he forced you to wear. And he doesn’t care to ask why your mascara is running when he looks over at you and wipes it away; he simply tells you that you look pretty, “Like a doll.”

You feel disoriented. Far from yourself and disgusted, and you can’t help the aching feeling in your chest when you think about how saddened your parents would be to see you like this. Half dressed in the middle of a Halloween party. They’d disown you, you’re sure of it.

Eddie’s hold is tight on you the whole night, whether on your hand, your waist, or his heavy hand resting on the back of your neck. He always has a hand on you. Oddly enough, Eddie’s touch seems to ground you despite how displaced you feel. It’s comforting to have something familiar while you struggle to grasp your morality. 

What are you doing here? How did you get here? Do you like this? Do you enjoy Eddie’s company enough to brave through this? 

You think you do.

The music is loud, and it’s packed with dancing bodies from wall to wall. You have to repeatedly tip the bunny ears on your head back into place from where they keep slipping, and you debate ripping it off every time. You can feel the bass of the music in your chest, the scent of liquor and smoke filling your lungs as neon lights dance across your eyes. 

Eddie has softened through the night. You’re not sure what had him wound up before, but he is back to doting on you, occasionally turning to you and brushing the skin under your eyes as his gaze softens and he asks if you’re okay. And you’re not. You’re cold and uncomfortable, and you want to go home, but Eddie’s touch is kind, so you find yourself nodding each time. And then he smiles and presses a kiss to your forehead, cool lips brushing against your skin, and returns to whatever he’s been doing all night. Stepping off into corners and sliding these bags to people in exchange for something you can’t quite see in the dim lighting of the house, but when you asked him, he told you not to worry about it. 

There’s a cup in your hands, a drink that Eddie gave you, which you have been slowly sipping for the better part of an hour. It’s sweet, almost too sweet, but there’s a bitter aftertaste that somehow balances it out enough for you to keep sipping on it. 

Eventually, you find yourself squirming with the need to pee, turning to Eddie and leaning up to reach his ear and tell him. He squeezes your hip, “I’ll be here, doll.” And you had hoped that Eddie would tag along with you for your safety and comfort, but he only turns back to the secretive conversation he’d been having.

You find yourself wandering up the stairs, eyes dancing around searching for a restroom. It’s just your luck that the first door you open happens to be one, empty and surprisingly clean for the chaos unfolding throughout the party. 

You try to be quick about it, eager to find your spot back next to Eddie, where you feel something along the lines of tolerable. You don’t miss the reflection of yourself in the mirror as you wash your hands, smudged mascara, taunting bunny ears, whorish clothing. You frown, tears pressing against your waterline as you gaze at yourself. 

Wrong. Open, unrecognizable, and wrong. 

Your shaky fingers grab at the bunny ears on your head, ripping them away and tossing them in the direction of the trash can, clattering to the floor in empty noise. 

After having a moment to breathe by yourself, you think you’ll ask Eddie to leave now, the pending urge to leave only growing stronger by the second.

You flip the bathroom light off and open the door, stepping out without looking, only to slam into a body. Apologies roll off your tongue as you stumble back, nearly falling from your stupid heels. Through your tears, you look up at the person, dressed in black and tall, face covered with a mask of black, distorted eyes, and a wide black mouth. 

You blink, stepping back as you mutter another apology, but they say nothing as they gaze down at you. Your heart races, fear seeping through you and staining like berries as you whip around and walk away— Eddie. Just get back to Eddie.

Unstable on stilts, you make your way back down the stairs and into the lion's den, crowded with drunk people dancing and talking, unmindful of where they go. And this house is big— too big. Big enough that when you glance around and realize you don’t know where you’re going, you start to feel even more panicked. 

Every corner is different yet the same:: dark lighting, flashing lights, and the music is too loud. You don’t know anybody here, and you don’t know your way back to Eddie. A glance over your shoulder and the panic amps to the nines as you realize the masked man is just a few feet away from you.

Is he following you? Why is he following you?

Fear runs through you like a freight train. Your feet carry you faster, weaving through people as your weary gaze jumps from corner to corner. Masked figures, blood, and distorted faces meet you at every turn. You never liked Halloween; you think you hate it now.

Eddie is nowhere to be seen, and you’re scared. Every place you turn is empty of your relief, and every glance back is full of fear. And you don’t feel good. You feel sick. Detached from your hands and feet yet so stuck in the walls of your skin— where is Eddie?

Tears are streaming down your face, but you hardly feel them as you pace towards the sight of a door. You don’t look back anymore, too afraid to see the gaping face of a void staring back at you, waiting to eat you alive— the hungry wolf and the weak lamb— just as Eddie had said.

The clearing of the front door is near, and your legs hardly feel real. You should’ve never come here. You should’ve never put on this outfit. You should’ve never gone out on your own and lost Eddie. You are wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong, and you’re scared.

And just as you come within a few feet of the door, a hand grabs your arm, and you jolt, pushing away until that familiar voice rings in your ear— “Hey, it’s me. It’s just me, where are you—” 

You throw yourself into Eddie’s arms, tears falling in droves as you sob into his chest. Eddie’s embrace is like a nest— a warm, carefully crafted, and woven nest made to hold you and keep you safe. You should’ve never left his side.

His hand gently holds your head, soft coos seeping into your ear as he asks, “What’s wrong, bunny? What happened?”

You cry, body trembling in his hold as you try to piece your words together, “I-I couldn’t find you and somebody— that guy w-was following me,” you cry.

Eddie’s eyebrows furrow in confusion, “What guy?”

Your words come out in choked sobs, a shaky finger lifting past Eddie’s shoulder, “T-the guy in the mask!” You stress. 

Eddie turns, looking in the direction of your finger, confusion and something else etched across his face when he turns to you, “…There’s a lot of masked people here, bunny; you’re gonna have to be a little more specific than that.” He says.

You cry, disoriented and confused because the man is nowhere in sight. Eddie guides you outside with a gentle hand on your back, softly cooing as you sob. The air is cold and sharp against your barely covered skin, but you hardly feel it. 

You’d been spinning all night, around and around in a foggy cloud of discomfort, and the crash hurts more than the fall. But Eddie is here. He is here, and he’s holding you, and he’s wiping your tears, and asking you to breathe, “Tell me what happened, doll. Describe the guy.”

And through wracked sobs and shaky words, you describe what you saw: black cape, white mask, two big black eyes, and a gaping mouth. Hungry and ready to devour you. 

“Woah, what the fuck happened?” 

It’s Nancy; you know it’s Nancy despite your inability to see straight. She steps into frame, a gentle hand on your arm as she looks at your distraught face. Not far behind her stands Steve, a look of concern on his face.

“Some fuckin’ creep was following her,” Eddie mutters.

Your breaths come in shaky gasps, trembling hands coming up to wipe at your wet eyes. You try to speak, but your words hardly make sense, so Nancy softly coos and tells you to calm down.

Another flow of tears fall, and you only want to wrap yourself back in Eddie’s arms. 

“And where were you?” Steve snaps.

Eddie looks at Steve, expression unreadable when he replies, “She went to the restroom.”

“And you didn’t go with her?” Steve prods. 

Nancy consoles you, wiping your tears and telling you you’re okay as Steve and Eddie bicker over things you can hardly manage to wrap your head around. Finally, Nancy turns to them, “Would you two shut up? It doesn’t matter. Let’s just get her home; I think we’ve all had enough of tonight.” She snaps.

And even though you’re upset that Nancy has taken you from your source of comfort, you’re glad she leaves no room for debate. Nancy leads you down the steps of the house and you catch a glimpse of Eddie and think tomorrow you’ll have to apologize for ruining the night. For losing him and making a scene of your own mistake. 

As you fall asleep later, you can’t help the few tears that slip down your face and drop onto your pillow as you all but hope Eddie can forgive you.

Steve’s had a rough weekend. 

What started with a small disagreement with Nancy over his schedule with rugby has spiraled into Nancy completely ignoring him. On top of that, Steve is furious with Eddie’s mistake of not protecting you, and Eddie doesn’t seem to care. And as if that’s not enough, rugby finals are just around the corner, and Steve’s team is falling short to fucking play like they mean it.

Steve woke up with a headache, a sign that today would be just as rough as the night before, where Steve spent the better part of an hour with his father nagging him over the phone. Steve’s not sure what his father wants from him: a college degree or someone to run his company— either way, he won’t get both.

So, with a pounding head and a deep sigh, Steve got out of bed and began his game day rituals.

Morning run, shower, finish assignments, roll out that stubborn muscle in his thigh, and head down to the field.

Practice runs short, as it always does on game day. Steve doesn’t want to waste any energy his players can use on the field, so he lets them off the hook earlier with a warning to not do anything stupid. 

And usually, by the time the game is about to start, Steve is pumped and ready to win; he talks up a big game to his players and riles them up. But today, Steve is merely a silent brewing storm. He’s tense. There’s a chip on his shoulder, and he can’t fucking reach it, and he doesn’t even know where to begin to figure it out. 

Because the truth is, Steve loves Nancy. And he wants you. And he wants to be the perfect son. And he wants to win every game. He wants, he wants, he wants. But how much of it can he actually get?

Midway through the game, Steve’s team is down by enough to put him in a bad mood. His storm is pushing and pulling, churning in dark clouds on the sidelines as he watches his team play like shit. Steve isn’t even here, he thinks. He’s somewhere else. Somewhere between space and the busy thoughts in his head.

And as if the other team making another score isn’t enough, Steve suddenly hears your name tumbling from the lips of another teammate— “Did you see her on Friday? I had a feeling that innocent shit was all an act— she probably fucks like she gets paid for it.”

And Steve bites so hard into his tongue that he tastes metal. Warm and bitter, inking across his tongue like spilled milk.

He shouldn’t say anything. He shouldn’t. Not when Nancy is already on his back, asking about his whereabouts and throwing fits over nothing— because the guys talk. They’ll open their mouths for any pair of walking tits, and Steve can’t afford that. Not now. He doesn’t need it.

But then— “Wait— Harrington, isn’t your girlfriend roommates with her?”

Steve glances at the two boys, snickering like thieves, enjoying the taste of berating you on their tongues. Steve can hardly hold back the snarl on his face when he looks at them and replies, “No.” Stiff and quick.

Noel, the boy who’d made the comment about you, is now sitting right next to Steve and looking at him in confusion, “But they’re friends, right? I see them together all the time.” He points out. 

Steve can’t deny that because it’s true. You and Nancy hang out on campus often, so he curtly nods, “Yeah. They’re friends.”

Noel hums, spreading his thighs to take up space as he leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. He looks at Steve and tilts his head as if he’s thinking, which Steve is sure he can’t even do, “So, can you confirm or deny that she’s more of a slut than she lets on.”

Steve looks at Noel, imagining his hands wrapped around his neck as his face twists in distaste, “She’s not a slut.”

Noel scoffs around a laugh, “Sure as hell dressed like one the other night.” he snickers, nudging his other snickering friend, Barry. They laugh as if it’s funny, making a snide comment about how your ass looked in your dress. Steve’s tongue is nearly bitten off. 

“That doesn’t make her a slut.” Steve snaps.

Noel and Barry glance at each other, and laugh in disbelief, “Relax, Harrington. No one’s gonna tell Nancy you cracked a joke about how hot her roommate is.” Barry teases.

Steve doesn’t say anything; just rolls his eyes and glares back at the game. But Noel is nothing if not a fucking test of patience. Steve never liked Noel, and honestly, if he weren’t a good stand-off player, Steve would’ve written him off long ago.

“Think you could put in a word for me, man?”

Steve doesn’t bother looking at Noel as he snaps, “No, dude. Fuck off.”

Noel nudges Steve as if pushing him closer to the line Steve has been dancing on all weekend, “Come on dude, quit being so uptight, it’s just pussy.”

Just pussy. 

Steve doesn’t know what snaps in him, but the second he hears it— just pussy— he hardly thinks twice before standing and curling his fists into Noel's jersey to throw him down off the bench.

“What the fuck—“

Steve steps over him, reaches down to grip the front of his jersey, and pulls him up, anger pumping through him in droves as he glares down at the boy and snaps, “Say one more thing about her.” 

Barry, Noel’s knight in shining armor, steps in and grips Steve’s shoulder, pulling him off his friend and shoving at his chest. He sizes Steve up, face twisted in annoyance as he seethes, “Dude— calm the fuck down.”

Steve shoves the boy off of him, “Fuck you.” He snaps. Steve steps up to him, “You wanna know a real slut, Barry? Ask your sister, I fucked her.” He spits. 

The words slip out easily like water, inky black with leeches to stick to skin and drain his veins— and it fucking works because not a second passes before a fist drives into Steve’s face, blood pooling in his mouth like an open dam. It rings loudly and echoing, with radio static in his ears. Steve can hardly hear his coach yelling, marching over to grab Steve off of Barry.

Steve doesn’t feel the pain in his hand, but he will once the adrenaline wears off, his knuckles tapped from the hard bone of Barry’s cheek. He doesn’t even remember punching him. 

The coach shoves Steve in the opposite direction of Barry, frustration in every vowel of his words as he spits out, “You’re out, Harrington!”

Steve doesn’t fucking care. He doesn’t care to be thrown out of the game, hell they were gonna lose anyway. He doesn’t care that he’s the captain and should be setting an example— Steve doesn’t care. He’s pissed off, and he can hardly think straight as he storms off the field. 

Steve’s storm is windy and brutal, the anger so hot in his throat that he can barely swallow. Steve will regret what he did later; he knows he will, but how could he sit there and let them talk about you like that and not do something? 

You, who is so kind and caring to assholes that don’t deserve a second of your attention. You, who has never made yourself a problem yet has been picked on since you’ve come to All Saints. You, who hardly knows right from wrong— because Steve is so, so, so wrong, and still you look at him with these soft, doe eyes that make Steve want to scream and cry simultaneously. You, who Steve thinks about as he falls asleep next to his girlfriend. 

How could anybody speak lowly of you?

You’re worth every bit of regret Steve will face, he thinks. No matter how clouded his judgment is.

There’s blood in his mouth, and dull aching in his jaw that will soon become a throbbing pain, and one would think Steve has had enough fights for the night, but that switch is suddenly flipped yet again when a voice comes from a few feet away— “Rough night, Harrington?”

The locker room is just steps away, and the noise of the losing game is now distant. Across the carpool lane stands Eddie, a cigarette burning between his fingers as the city light dances across his figure. He looks so stupid, standing there like a shadow, taunting Steve as if this is some sort of joke to him.

Steve gazes at Eddie, watching as he brings the cigarette up to his lips, talking around a cloud of smoke when he adds, “You look like shit.”

Shaky breaths, radio static, warm metal. City light, cigarette smoke, stupid fucking shadow.

Steve’s jaw aches when he clenches his teeth before speaking, “Are you following me?”

Eddie raises an eyebrow, “Do you want me to follow you?”

Annoying. So fucking annoying, that’s all Eddie has ever been. An annoying asshole with something smart to always say.

“Why would I want you to follow me?”

Eddie shrugs, a hand in his pocket, “Some people like that shit.” He says.

Steve stalks over, unbridled anger in each step as he draws closer to Eddie. He sneers as he glares at Eddie, “The fuck is your problem?” He snaps.

Eddie blinks, brown eyes gazing at Steve as he responds, “I don’t have a problem.”

“Then quit being so fucking weird.” Steve spats, face twisted in disgust. 

Eddie raises an uninterested eyebrow, “Wasn’t aware I was.” He coolly replies. 

Steve’s fingers curl into his palm, an angry fist against his side as he glares at the boy before him. Eddie’s eyes drop to Steve’s fist, lips ticking up in a small smile as his gaze flickers back to Steve’s.

Steve’s face grows hot in anger. He leans in, venom on his tongue when he spats at Eddie, “Fuck you.”

Eddie, like the asshole he is, gets a glint in his eye as he quickly whips back, “Thank you.” As if nothing ever bothers him. Steve sometimes wonders if Eddie knows how to bleed. Does he know how to respond to a punch? A kick? A bite? Steve’s not so sure that he does. 

Steve decides spending another second on Eddie would be a waste, so he turns on and walks away. He’s still hot with anger, still tasting blood in his mouth, still thinking about those assholes on the turf, still thinking about the asshole a few feet away from that knows how he tastes.

“And just so you know,” Steve whips around, storming up to Eddie again. Eddie’s gaze flickers back to Steve, tilting his head in interest. Steve feels a feeling he’s never felt before brewing in his chest— a deep anger that he’s never tasted and comes up sharp on his tongue.

“I’m not fucking gay.” Steve spits.

Eddie blinks and nods once, “Okay.” 

Steve looks at Eddie, the other boys sharp features glowing under the lamplight as he says, “So don’t do that shit again.” 

Eddie looks at Steve, stoic expression plastered across his face before he tilts his head, “Not sure I know what you’re talking about.” He says, voice low and gravely.

Steve’s blood boils. His fists clench by his sides, and he ticks his jaw, pain rising from the punch he’d taken not too long ago, “Fuck you,” he says, “You know what I’m talking about.”

Eddie’s eyes have an annoying glint when he responds, “Seemed like you enjoyed it, Harrington.” He says beneath a subtle smirk. Steve steps forward, fists curling into the leather of Eddie’s jacket as he leans in and seethes, “You’re fucking disgusting. Try pulling that shit again, and I won’t hesitate to fucking kill you.”

Eddie smirks, brown eyes dancing over Steve’s face, a halo of warm light around his curly hair. Eddie’s voice is like hot honey, “That a threat or a promise, captain?” 

“That’s a fucking promise.”

Brown pools of earth swirling like a whirlpool stare into Steve’s eyes. Smoke and cheap cologne, hairspray, leather. Steve’s anger is so loudly rushing through his veins he can hear it, flooding through his ears like a river.��

Steve is in the eye of the storm. The wind is still, the air is crisp, and the light overhead flickers.

Steve doesn’t know how it happens. He doesn’t know who invades whose space, but the taste of his blood mixes with the taste of cigarette smoke, dull with mint and spit. Eddie’s lips are warm and rough because Eddie needs some fucking chapstick, but Steve doesn’t complain. He can’t. Not when Eddie’s dipping his tongue into his mouth and tasting his blood, humming like it’s the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted. 

Steve’s knuckles are tight in Eddie’s jacket, short nails carving into the leather. Eddie’s tongue is like a curious snake, running over Steve’s tongue, dipping through the valleys and ridges of his teeth, licking over his palate. Eddie’s tongue slinks back into his own mouth, his lips curving against Steve’s lips as his cold fingers brush against Steve’s hips— and suddenly, the winds are picking up, and Steve shoves at the curly-haired boy, stepping away with a heaving chest as he glares at the boy.

Eddie’s lips are tainted a faint red, brown eyes bright yet gloomy as they gaze at Steve. Steve grimaces as he wipes his mouth, spitting out blood onto the concrete as if Eddie’s spit is the worst thing he’s ever tasted. 

Eddie smiles, looks at Steve like he can see right through him, and Steve fucking hates it. Steve turns, body thrumming in some sort of sick and twisted adrenaline, eyes cast ahead of him as he marches toward the door of the locker room.

“By the way, Steve,” Eddie calls out behind him, “It was me.”

Fuck him. Fuck him and fuck everything that he says and does— Steve hates that every word Eddie says leaves him questioning, hanging, wanting more. Steve turns and glares at Eddie, vitriol in his voice as he spits out, “The fuck are you talking about?”

Eddie’s lips tip in a smile, boot-clad feet clicking against the cement as he stalks over to Steve, “The guy following her. It was me.” He shrugs.

Steve looks at Eddie, dancing over his face, looking for a crack in his expression— he finds none. Steve feels… he feels stupid. Stupid for being blind to the little game Eddie is so easily playing, puppeteering you and him with an expertise that makes Steve wonder— how many times has he done this? How many people?

Steve spent the whole weekend churning in anger, only to be told it was Eddie the entire time. He feels naive and dumb.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Eddie snickers with a shrug, stopping in front of Steve, “Made it more entertaining.”

Steve swears he feels Eddie’s lips on his, and if it weren’t for the sight of them splitting into a shit-eating grin, he’d believe they were still pressed against that lamppost, swapping spit and blood.

“Fuck you.” Steve spits.

Eddie’s smile smears in Steve’s vision as he turns his back to him and walks toward the building, heart racing in his chest and bile churning in his stomach.

Eddie’s voice rings in his ears as Steve opens the locker room door, “Goodnight, Harrington.”

Steve hardly sleeps that night.

part four.

freaky lil cutie taglist: @gnrquinn @otterpop13 @sirensleepingsoundly @hugdealer @poppyseed018 @your-nightmaredoll @daysinthephoenix @chaiflvrd @daisy-munson @amira0303 @kellsck @eddiesguitarskills @peaches-roses-sins @ohmeg

@tellmealovestory @munsonsbtch @freak-of-hawkins @darknesseddiem @urdadsnewgiirlfriend @6ix9inewiturmom @shamelessandahs @subconsciouscollapse @sidthedollface2 @literalangels @tlclick73 @yarafae @lemme-slytherin-that-dick

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@ratsematary @qtheressurections

a/n: HI HI HIIII !!! first of all, i am so incredibly sorry for how delayed this chapter was, i truly hope you guys even remember this story *cries*, either way, thank you for being so patient <33 this chappy was all about stevie battling his demons (bisexuality) soooo, not much established, but we're getting to the action very soon I promise!!

if you made it this far, thank u so much for reading, any and all feedback is appreciated and loved <3 I hope you all have a wonderful 2025 and stay safe; and as always, thank u and i love you always!!

[akunya]

"somewhere only we know.”

pairings: dragon!sylus x m!reader

summary: thinking out loud, you begin to wonder how things would be under different circumstances.

tw: slight angst, sfw, fluff, MYTHIC SPOILERS.

notes: truthfully, the gender here isn't specified. however all of my fics are written with a male!reader in mind. do with that as you wish.

"Do you think, in another life.. We would still be together?"

Your voice cracked as you watched the petals whisk away. The soft grass swayed with the wind, a gentle comfort as you clutched it in your palm. The clouds swirled as you both sat in silence, staring at the sky in a comfortable quiet.

It was just the two of you together, in your secret little place that Sylus had brought you to that day. You found yourself asking to be flown back there often. There was something so calming about this side of Tarus, so serene, it nearly felt unreal every time you two sat here.

Sylus was the first to break the tension as he looked down at you with an amused smile. "Together?" His tone was teasing, but not enough to ruin the atmosphere the pair of you made for each other. The dragon was about to make another teasing remark until he caught a glimpse of your clenched fist.

"You know what I mean."

The slight tremble in your words struck his heart with guilt. He wished, for once, he didn't try to poke at you so often.

There was another long portion of silence between you two. Taking a flower into your palm, you fiddled with its petals, the delicate red smooth under your fingertips. Worried you made things awkward, you dug your feet into the ground to pick yourself up - almost, that is, until the man next to you began to speak.

Barely above a whisper, your eyes met for the first time that evening, looking at him with an emotion you couldn't quite describe. "I think so," Was it uncertainty? Fear? Relief? You didn't know what you expected from his answer, nor did you expect one in the first place. You felt as though he was staring into your soul, his red pupils shining in the warm tones of the sunset. A part of you wondered if bringing it up at all was foolish.

"..Yeah. We would be."

Blinking, you let out a heavy sigh you didn't know you were holding. A small chuckle left your lips. "I wonder what it would be like. Would we look the same?" You wondered aloud. It would be amusing if you were the taller one in the relationship in your next life, however, a part of you knew that was never going to happen. Your gaze went back to the sun as it set behind the mountains of Tarus city, the hues creating a cascade of orange and yellow across the sky.

"What does it matter? I wouldn't mind. Unless, you prefer if this fiend always has horns." Sylus nudged your side playfully, your laugh making butterflies swarm in his stomach. Sylus with his draconic features were like the cherry on top. Once scared, you grew to adore the rough scales of him the most, finding yourself caressing the smooth surface with your thumb on nights alone with him more than once. "The horns are a nice touch. I would miss them a bit." Looking back at him, you inched a bit closer, testing your luck to see if he would retract from your closeness.

He would not. He never did, not from you.

Taking his silence as a cue to continue, you started up your thoughts again. "We could have our own home together. It doesn't have to be big." You imagined a quaint little cottage in the middle of the forest. Small, but big enough for the both of you, adorned with treasures and trinkets from your past adventures. It was remote, but that's how you would want it: away from everyone else. Just you and Sylus in your own trove, shielded from the harsh outside world. After all that you have been through, you didn't really yearn for something lavish and grand.

"A small home isn't bad." Sylus found himself imagining too as he listened intently to your thoughts. He rarely let his mind wander and think about such trivial things, but this once he could make an exception. Thinking of a divergent future than what he was destined for always seemed futile. In the end, there was nothing he could do to break the curse he was born into. He was a monster, destined for his death by your hand, even if you didn't know it yet. And that was how the world saw him.

But, if it was for you, he could entertain your fantasy a bit.

"Is there something you want, Sylus? If we could be somewhere different."

You looked up at him again for answers. His throat tightened, looking down at how hopeful you were. So innocent, so pure.

For a moment, he had forgotten all of the crimes you had committed. Your hair flickered with the wind as the sunlight framed every part of your face beautifully. The outfit that matched his ever-so-cliche has never looked so right before. If he had no idea who you were, he would have thought you were an angel descended from the heavens, a blessing to bring some ease to his wretched timeline.

Maybe you weren't his arch-nemesis. Perhaps, his destiny wasn't as harsh as he thought it was growing up.

Maybe death wasn't so bad, if it were by your hands.

"So long as you're with me, I don't care about anything else." The dragon's words were taut. Fiddling with a flower in his claws, he twirled the stem mindlessly, letting it float away with the wind that brushed against you both of you.

Leaning against his shoulder, you didn't bother fighting them when your eyelids started to feel heavy. You didn't need to question or ask anymore. He was right, in the end. Sylus didn't care for moving either, watching the sun slowly set and cast the city in darkness once again.

If you two were together, that would be enough.

[talesof-old]

handle it | a.s., h.l.r., g.c.

pairing(s): poly!batboys x fem!eader

warning(s): 18+, smut, couples arguing, teasing, piv sex, handjobs (f receiving), oral (m receiving), reader has a vagina and is referred to by her/she, reader is called pretty girl, men being annoying and protective/possessive, if you squint there’s wing play, i did not proofread or edit because for some reason this put me in a slump, i think that’s all

word count: 1.7k

a/n: sorry this took me so long i was strugglinggg so it does end kind of abruptly

masterlist

poly!batboys + smut, angst + happy ending

“For the last time, you will not tell me I can’t go.”

Azriel barked a hoarse, humorless laugh, his eyes cold as he looked down at you. Gone were the days of training at Windhaven, children playing war as the world fell apart. No, now Rhys was High Lord, and you were a long way from the mountains you once called home.

“I’m in charge of this mission. What I say goes. And you are not going.”

Throwing your arms up in exasperation, you catch a glimpse of Cassian’s amused expression and Rhysand’s impassive face. They knew better than to get between the two of you. Azriel’s barely contained rage that settled just beneath his skin could burn hot at any given moment, and you were a formidable opponent that even your battle seasoned superiors knew better than to rile.

“You’re staying here.”

You whirled around, face nearly coming into contact with Azriel’s hard chest. Your wings flared.

“Rhys has the final say. I’m going.”

Violet eyes flickered between the two of you, one side of his lips quirking up in a smirk as Rhys shrugged. Anger flared in your chest. There was no reason for him not to side with you. You’d proven yourself over and over again, earned your place just as much as they had. It wasn’t fair.

“Rhys, I swear on the Mother-“ Rhys shook his head, silencing Azriel as he moved. Cassian followed after him, both quick to leave you two alone.

“Figure this out between you. We’re not getting involved.”

Azriel’s jaw clenched as the door shut behind them; the silence that followed was deafening. His shadows darted out and away from him, only to return to curl around his body like they couldn’t decide whether to comfort you or their master. It would’ve been comical, really, if Azriel’s sharp eyes weren’t burning holes into your forehead. You fought the urge to roll your eyes.

“I’ll see you at dinner.” Azriel didn’t say a word as you walked out the room.

Dinner was not a pleasant affair. Mor picked up on the tension between the shadowsinger and you with a simple glance, and it seemed to only agitate you further. Territorial fae bastards, the lot of them.

“We still set for that shopping trip on Saturday?” Mor’s honey voice filled your ears and you allowed yourself to smile. At the end of the table, Azriel sat stiff as a board, barely touching the food on his plate.

“Of course, I still need something for Dawn’s ball.”

She nodded, sipping her wine as she contemplated. You raised a brow. There was something mischievous in her eyes as she spoke next.

“I hear Caius was asking after you.” Shadows exploded across the room, darting out to weave through your hair and urge you towards their source. You narrowed your eyes at Mor who simply threw her head back and laughed. Amren scoffed over her glass.

“Az.” At Rhys’ firm tone, the shadows were reeled back in, and light filled the room once more.

“We’re leaving. I’ll keep you both updated.” A warm hand clasped yours and then all of a sudden you were in Rhys’ bedroom, perched on the edge of his bed. You turned to the partner in question.

What the fuck?

Rhys chuckled in your mind.

I thought you two would’ve sorted this out.

You rolled your eyes at that, turning to flop onto the bed, wings draped over your body. Rhys rested a hand on your lower back, shivers crawling up your spine as he massaged your tailbone.

He’s a possessive prick.

Rhys laughed out loud this time, trailing his hand over your backside. You preened under his touch, twisting to stretch out like a cat and smiling over at him softly. A grunt sounded from behind you. Rhys glanced over, sending an image to you.

Cassian and Azriel (the former having already removed half of his clothes), lip locked and tugging hard at each other’s bodies. Heat pooled in between your thighs and you turned to raise a brow at your companion. He smirked. In a blink, he was hovering over your body, chest pressed against your left side. You tilted your head upwards, pressing your lips against his. He moved slowly, pressing you down as he swiped a tongue over your lips. Rhys’ palm moved to cup your arse, rubbing your clothed cunt against the bulge in his pants. You sighed as you melted into his touch.

A broken moan drew you away from your High Lord.

You turned your head, pupils blown wide with lust as Cassian manhandled Azriel, tugging at his short hair and biting the exposed skin of his neck. Rhys laid back, hauling you up to rest on top of him. He helped you straddle him.

Someone hit the wall behind you, choking on a groan. You grinned as Rhys pulled you into him, licking a stripe up your throat.

“You’re both fully capable of resolving your issues, hm? Isn’t that what you said the last time?” You let out a long suffering sigh and gripped Rhysand’s hair.

“Don’t be a dick.”

He trailed light fingers up your sides, the sensation dulled by the fabrics covering your skin. Teasing touches turned rough as you rolled your hips. You smiled sweetly.

Behind you, the bed dipped as your two lovers joined you.

Cassian’s rough hands gripped your hips, careful of the wings you now arched high. Azriel settled against the pillows next to Rhysand, watching you with half-lidded, dark eyes. You maintained eye contact with the shadowsinger, grabbing Cassian’s hand and slipping it into your loose fitted pants. He cupped your mound, urging you to grind against his palm. You did so, head falling back as the roughness of his skin dragged against your lips and clit. He let you use him, your chest heaving as you rode yourself to climax. Your legs shook, upheld only by Rhys’ hands.

Rhysand took to leaning forward and nipping at the skin of your sensitive neck. He grinned as you keened, cunt clenching onto nothing as you tumbled over the edge. You fell against Cassian as your blood rushed through your ears. He chuckled, ignoring the way you jolted when your wings made contact with his frame.

Your body trembled following your orgasm, blissfully warm but not entirely relaxed. Azriel grunted as Rhys cupped his bulge. Your eyes flashed to his, annoyance still eating at your gut.

“Come on, pretty girl. Don’t be like that.” Cassian mouthed at the juncture of your neck and shoulders, sucking hard. You moaned softly, writhing against him as he massaged your breasts.

“Lovely, isn’t she?” Rhysand’s low voice sounded from beside Azriel. He huffed, abdomen muscles tense as the High Lord slipped a hand into his trousers. He pumped his cock, running a gentle hand over his slit and laughing when he hissed.

“You managed to piss her off pretty bad. Wonder what you’ll have to do to make it up.” Heat rushed to Azriel’s face. You watched with rapt attention, eyelashes fluttering as Cassian stripped you of your top to expose your breasts. You shivered at the sudden chill.

“Will she let you touch her?”

Azriel clenched his hands into fists, all but tucking them underneath his thighs. You giggled. Looks like he wanted to be tested tonight.

“Rhys.” You purred.

He whipped his head towards you at the sound of your voice, his name dripping with lust. You wriggled your ass against Cassian’s dick and tugged on Rhysand’s shirt.

He was on you in an instant, mouth hot against yours as Cassian pulled down your trousers and underwear. He was quick to line himself up your cunt and slowly sink in, leaning forward to press kisses to your upper back as you moaned. Rhys swallowed the sounds all too willingly.

As Cassian bottomed out, Rhys tugged down his own pants, situating himself right by your mouth. You lowered yourself onto your elbows, a soft whine leaving you as the angle changed how deep Cassian was within you. Rhysand grabbed a handful of your hair and guided your mouth to his cock. He grunted when your lips wrapped around the reddening skin.

Cassian pulled half-way out of you, giving an experimental thrust. Your eyes fluttered shut. He was slow with it, setting a lazy pace to keep you from climaxing too soon. You shivered as one of his hands grazed the inner part of your wings. Molten heat burned between your hips.

With a practiced tongue and a few well timed sucks, Rhys was pulsing in your mouth, balls drawn tight. His head was thrown back, moans tumbling from his lips in a way that would’ve had you grinning. Cassian kept his sensual pace.

You hollowed out your cheeks, gagging as Rhysand’s cock hit the back of your throat. He choked on a moan, halfway through cooing at the tears on your cheeks when his orgasm tore through him. He shook; beside him, Azriel trembled with need.

You swallowed his cum greedily, humming. Rhys jerked. You pulled off of him with a pop, grinning like a madman.

“Wicked thing.”

You shrugged, arching your back to meet Cassian’s thrusts. One of his large hands splayed across the bottom of your curved spine, the other coming around your waist to toy with your clit. You spasmed against him.

A low chuckle sounded through the room.

“Be careful tonight, we’ve all got a mission tomorrow.” Even in the midst of your pleasure, your head jerked towards Azriel. He wore an expression half resigned, half lustful. You reached for him with one hand, balancing on your right, fingers trembling. A moment ticked by. He moved, graceful as a panther, and tugged you to him. Cassian groaned as you involuntarily clenched around him. He pulled out of you, letting you splay across the shadowsinger’s front.

“You’re really giving in?”

Azriel’s sigh was answer enough, but he responded with a simple, “Yes.”

You smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to his chin. The ache between your thighs was desperate for attention, however, so you moved to straddle his hips.

Much to the displeasure of your two other lovers, the words “You’re mine for the rest of the night,” were what left your mouth. Azriel leaned back.

“Show me you can handle it.”

+++

[pedroscurls]

romantic getaway (one-shot)

summary: hugh takes you to greece for a romantic getaway after rumors of your relationship with him start to circulate the media... but there's no hiding it anymore. pairing: hugh jackman x fem!reader tags / warnings: fluff / smut (18+, mdni) - reader has some description (hair, outfit), unprotected p in v sex, oral (m receiving), missionary, prone bone position, creampie (oops), light spanking, no use of y/n. word count: 3.4k a/n: shout out to @lloydmustache for sending me this request! i'm so sorry it took so long, but i truly hope you enjoy it. i had so much fun writing it (and honestly that first pic definitely sidetracked me way too much lol but i ain't mad about it). as always, this is purely fictional! i mean no disrespect to hugh jackman.

“Let’s go to Greece,” Hugh tells you, hands resting on the edge of the kitchen counter, caging you in as you continue to make breakfast. 

“Greece? Oh, come on,” you gently nudge against him, trying to create some space between your bodies. 

“Let’s just get out of the spotlight. Have some fun. Just–” Hugh sighs, resting his chin on your shoulder as he watches you scramble the eggs onto the heated pan. “A little getaway. Just me and you, baby.”

You bite your lower lip, contemplating his offer. It had been a few months since meeting Hugh at the after party of the release of Deadpool & Wolverine. You hadn’t expected to meet him, no less spend the entire night attached at the hip. You were there as a plus one with one of the crew members who had abandoned you once the after party started. So, you were at the bar, hand gripping the glass of wine as you felt completely out of place. 

Until Hugh Jackman approached you and made you feel completely at ease. He didn’t have to talk to you, didn’t have to spend the entire night with you, but he did and you would be lying if you said you didn’t jump at the chance to go home with him. You didn’t normally do this – one night stands – but Hugh never pressured you into something you didn’t want to do. You had gone home with him that night and stayed up the entire night, just talking until the sun rose and you kissed him. 

You didn’t get home until later that afternoon, truly satisfied and a memory that you would hold dear to you. You didn’t think anything would come of it – the one night stand – but after having exchanged numbers with Hugh, you both continued to text and call each other even after the fact. 

You both had to figure out a way to sneak around without Hugh getting caught by the paparazzi and it was tough for a few weeks. He was still riding the high of the success of his movie with Ryan, so whenever he stepped out, there was always a camera in his face. He was always polite, always considerate, but he missed you. Wanted to spend more and more time with you as the weeks passed. 

But you both got a bit too comfortable with the routine. The paparazzi started to pick up on the times that Hugh would leave, where he would go, and a few even caught a glimpse of you entering his building. So, as the months passed and your relationship with him progressed, rumors about Hugh’s love life began to circulate. 

HUGH JACKMAN RUMORED TO BE OFF THE MARKET AFTER DIVORCE?

HUGH JACKMAN - NO LONGER SINGLE?! 

HUGH JACKMAN RUMORED TO HAVE BEEN GETTING COZY WITH MYSTERIOUS WOMAN AT DEADPOOL & WOLVERINE AFTER-PARTY?

It was difficult to navigate the rumors, difficult to see the comments from his fans. You weren’t used to this type of commitment where it wasn’t only Hugh’s love life on full display for the entire world, but that meant that you would be thrust into the spotlight too. 

You weren’t famous. No one knew who you were. You were “normal” in the sense that you weren’t in the industry like Hugh. 

But Hugh reassured you. With every hateful comment or new headline, Hugh was there to make sure that you knew those things didn’t matter to him. 

He’d tell you: “You make me happy and that’s all that matters to me, baby.” 

Now, you’ve become desensitized to the rumors, to the comments. You put all your focus on Hugh and your relationship with him. There are still moments that make you think otherwise, but Hugh knows you enough now where he can sense when your thoughts begin to drift. 

“So, Greece?” Hugh whispers, turning his head to press soft kisses along the side of your neck. “It’ll be amazing. Think about it. Beautiful sunsets, amazing food, nights on the boat…”

You shut your eyes and rest your head back against his shoulder, granting him further access along your neck. “Okay,” you whisper. “Let’s do it.” 

Hugh grins against you and wraps his arms around you, holding you close to him. “Perfect. I’ll go ahead and plan everything, baby. Let me take care of you.”

“You always take care of me,” you laugh quietly. 

“It’s not enough,” Hugh whispers. “You deserve everything.” 

—

You’ve fallen in love with Greece, but you have to wonder if it’s because of the location or if it’s because you’re here with Hugh. You’re able to be out with him in public – kissing, holding hands, going out to dinner. It gives you a glimpse of what you’ve been missing all along since this relationship began all those months ago. 

You’re on the boat, dressed in an oversized white button-up shirt over a white bikini. You’re lying back, allowing the sun to gaze down upon you until you hear Hugh let out a loud woo! followed by a loud splash of water. You lean up on your elbows and look over the railing to see Hugh come up to the surface, bringing his hands to brush his hair away from his face as the water trickles down his upper half. 

You bite your lower lip and allow your eyes to rake over his frame, all tan and muscular and a large grin lining his lips. He’s so dreamy and you still can’t believe that you’re here with him and that he’s chosen you to be with.

“Come on in, baby,” he exclaims, smiling up at you. “The water feels amazing.”

“I have to finish this chapter–”

“You can finish it later. Come join me.” Hugh interjects. 

You smile and then shrug off the button up shirt, walking towards the edge as you look down at Hugh. You can see him gazing up at you, tongue darting out to lick his lower lip as his eyes run across your frame. 

“Oh yeah, definitely join me, baby. You look amazing.” 

You feel the heat rise in your cheeks as you jump into the water. You swim further up to the surface and stroke your hair away from your face as Hugh swims in your direction, his arms immediately coming to wrap around your waist. He pulls you flush against him as he leans in to peck your lips lightly. 

“I don’t ever wanna leave,” you tease him, your own arms wrapping around his shoulder and your legs wrapping around his waist. 

“It’s been an amazing vacation so far, baby,” Hugh whispers, leaning in to press his forehead against yours. “At least we have another week here.” 

You bite your lower lip, eyes gazing into his own as you feel your bodies sway in the water. “Hugh?”

“Yeah, honey?” 

“I want to be able to do this with you when we get back home,” you admit. 

Hugh’s eyes glimmer with excitement, with hope. “Yeah?” 

You nod, playing with his hair at the nape of his neck. “Yeah. I’m tired of sneaking around.”

“So, I can show you off? Take you out to dinner in the city? Go for walks in the park?” 

“Yeah,” you repeat with a smile. “I’d like that very much.” 

Hugh lets out a sigh of contentment and leans in to press his lips against yours. He didn’t think that anything would happen when he met you that one night all those months ago. Deadpool & Wolverine had given him another chance at playing a character he loved, but it had also given him you. He can still remember the way you looked that night, the way you seemed so out of place, but even amongst all the cast and crew members and even other celebrities, Hugh found comfort and peace in you. 

“Once we get back to New York, you’re staying the entire week at my place,” he says, pulling away slowly. 

“Not gonna get tired of me?” 

Hugh’s hand dips lower until he holds you up against him by your backside. His fingertips brush against your clothes sex, watching as your eyes flutter. “Never, baby.” 

—

Back at the hotel, you’re getting dressed when you hear Hugh curse under his breath. He walks into the bathroom, looking over at you with an apologetic look on his face. He’s shirtless, wearing only a pair of jeans with his phone in his hands. 

“What is it?” You ask, running the towel over your damp hair. 

“Someone,” he sighs and walks over to you. Hugh hands you his phone and then crosses his arms over his chest as he leans against the bathroom counter. “Someone took a photo of us earlier today and posted it. It’s all over the media. Magazines have already written headlines for it. It’s everywhere.” 

You set the towel down and tighten the robe around your body as you look at the pictures that some fans must have taken of you both earlier that day. You bite your lower lip, scrolling through a few more before you set the phone down. 

“Hugh–”

“I’m sorry, baby.”

“Hugh–”

“We’ll figure something out and–”

You reach over and rest a hand on his broad chest, gazing up at him. “Baby, it’s okay.” 

“It’s okay?”

“We were gonna tell everyone eventually, right?”

“But not like this.” 

“I know, but I guess that’s the price you pay for being so famous,” you tease. 

Hugh sighs and rests his hands on your hips. “You sure you don’t mind?” 

“I know what I was getting into when I decided I wanted to be with you, Hugh.” You move your hands up his chest and rest them on his shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze. “And besides, we look in love. I’m in love.” 

Hugh’s eyes widen slightly, a slow grin appearing on his lips. “Love, huh?” 

“Yes,” you admit, leaning up on your toes to peck his lips. You lean against him, lacing your fingers at the nape of his neck as his arms snake around you. “I’m in love with you and honestly, I’m tired of sneaking around with you.” 

“Are you sure, baby?” Hugh asks quietly, hesitantly. “I just– I don’t wanna scare you away. People can be…”

“Mean? Hateful?” You sigh. “I know all of that, Hugh. But you make me happy and that’s all that matters to me,” you repeat. 

Hugh sighs contentedly. “I’m in love with you too, baby.”

You look in his eyes and smile to yourself, pulling back to run your hand along his chest, feeling the muscle and hair beneath your fingertips. “Do we have to go to lunch?” 

Hugh’s eyes darken as he gently reaches for the knot in your robe, undoing it slowly and pushing the robe off your shoulders. It pools around your ankles, staring up at him innocently as you stand fully exposed in front of him. 

Hugh can feel his jeans become tighter in the center as he reaches down to squeeze his length, growling lowly. His eyes take in your frame, biting his lower lip. When he sees you drop to your knees in front of him, Hugh grins to himself and moves his free hand to tangle itself in your damp hair.  

“Baby, we have reservations and–” his words cut off when he feels your hands undo the zipper and button on his jeans, pulling it down his legs with his boxers. It relieves the much needed pressure as he looks down at you, your hand coming up to grasp his base and gives it a gentle squeeze. His hands grip the edge of the bathroom counter as a low groan escapes his lips. 

“We can skip lunch,” you tell him, leaning forward to dart your tongue out at his leaking tip. You smile up in his direction as you wrap your lips around his head and slowly begin to suck. 

Hugh’s eyes flutter as his hand in your hair tightens. He loves seeing you like this, on his knees with his cock in your mouth. He tries to keep his eyes open, but the more you take of him, the harder it becomes. Your saliva is slick along his base and he feels your cheeks hollow as you take more of him into your mouth. 

“Fuck,” Hugh moans, shifting his hips forward until he feels his tip hit the back of your throat. He hears you gag at that and looks down to see tears stinging the corners of your eyes at the slight thrust he delivered. When he feels you begin to quicken your pace, Hugh has to pull away. He knows he’ll get close to finishing if you keep that up. 

“On the bed,” Hugh demands, chest heaving as he sees you stand upright. You bat your eyelashes in his direction and Hugh’s eyes narrow, stepping up to you as his manhood brushes against your abdomen. “Get on the bed, baby.” 

You nod, but slowly lean in to press your lips against his. You try to deepen the kiss, try to slide your tongue past his lips, but he doesn’t let you. You bite down gently on his lower lip once he pulls away, hearing him let out a loud groan. 

“Yes, sir,” you tease, walking towards the bed. You’re about to lie on your back when Hugh shakes his head and gently flips you onto your abdomen. You go to prop yourself on all fours, but Hugh instead straddles you from behind. He presses a hand on your lower back and makes your front press firmly into the mattress. Hugh places his legs on either side of yours, using his hands to spread your cheeks apart as he sees the length of your sex glisten with your arousal. 

Slowly, you turn your head to look at him from over your shoulder. You bite your lower lip and feel the head of his manhood brush against your opening. “Hugh, please…” 

Hugh smirks and slowly slides into your heat, a loud moan leaving his lips. In this position, your walls encompass his length, soft and warm, tight and welcoming. He slides further into you, your wetness and your saliva from earlier providing just enough lubricant to push into you. Both of his hands move to rest on the mattress at either side of your hips as he pulls his hips back, pulling out to his tip, before he thrusts back into your tight heat. 

Your hands come up to grip the sheets of the mattress. You feel so full of him and in this position, you feel every inch of his throbbing length. You bury your face into the mattress, letting out a loud moan as Hugh’s hips pick up its pace. The sound of his skin slapping against yours mixes in with the sounds of your moans, and with how wet you’re increasingly continuing to get. Hugh’s thrusts are seamless, easy, and your walls begin to give way to his size. 

“Hugh, oh my god.” You arch your back and you feel his hands move to rest on your hips as he rolls his hips into you. 

Hugh watches his length move in and out of you, seeing his manhood slick with your arousal. He groans, feeling your walls begin to tremble around him. “God, you feel good baby,” he whispers, leaning down so his lips hover near your ear. “You like that?” 

His voice is so deep – he’s so deep. Your toes curl inwards at the sensation and his entire frame is crowding you, caging you into the mattress as he continues his rough thrusts. 

“Y– Yes! Please, Hugh, I’m so close–”

“Oh, I know, baby. Gonna give it to you,” he says, nipping at your earlobe. 

“Oh god,” you moan, eyes shutting tight as you feel your walls clench around him tightly. Your body trembles as you reach your high, and Hugh has to deliver a sharp thrust to fill you to the hilt to allow you to ride it out. When he pulls back just a bit, you’re overcome with a flood of sensations and you reach back to push his hips away, to give some space, but Hugh doesn’t let up. 

“That’s it, baby,” he groans, grabbing your wrist and placing it against your lower back. 

“Hugh, please, I don’t know if I can–”

He delivers a hard thrust, his tip hitting your cervix and you practically let out a scream at the movement. Hugh grins proudly to himself, pulling out momentarily to flip you onto your back. Hugh spreads your legs apart for him and settles between them, sliding back into you with ease. 

He takes your hands and pins them above your head as his thrusts become more sloppy, more erratic as he feels himself get closer and closer to the edge. Slowly, Hugh laces your fingers together, eyes focused solely on you. He always loves seeing you come undone – the way you struggle to keep your eyes open, your mouth already formed in an ‘o’ shape with a series of moans escaping. 

And it’s all because of him. 

Hugh thrusts once, twice, three times before he paints your walls with his come. He’s breathing heavily and you’re doing the same. He releases his hold on your hands to instead cup your cheeks, your eyes dazed with a small smile lining your lips. 

“I should get on my knees more often,” you tease, feeling his come slowly trickle down your legs when he pulls out. 

Hugh chuckles, shaking his head. “We won’t get anything done if you do.”

—

Later that evening, Hugh wanted to take you out on the boat for dinner with a view. You’re both leaning against each other with a glass of wine. His arm drapes around your shoulders as you lean into him, watching the sunset along the water. 

There’s a sense of freedom that washes over you when you know that you no longer have to hide your relationship with him. It’s freeing to know that you can step out in public with him and not have to worry about getting caught. 

“Hey,” he whispers, gently nudging your temple with the bridge of his nose.

You turn your head to look up at him, smiling in his direction. “Hm?”

“You mind if I take a picture of you and post it?” 

You bite your lower lip. “Why of me? Not of us?” 

Hugh just shakes his head. “I wanna start showing you off,” he smiles. 

“Make sure I look good, at least?” 

Hugh chuckles. “Baby, you always look good.” Then, he takes his phone out and positions the camera to face you. You don’t bother to look at the camera because you’re so focused on him. He’s grinning from behind his phone and you aren’t sure if he’s already taken the picture because he doesn’t give you a countdown. 

Then, he tells you to look off into the distance. 

“Ah, so you’re giving me poses now, are you?” you laugh quietly, looking towards the sunset with a smile on your face. 

Hugh doesn’t respond, just continues to take several more pictures. “God, I’m in love with you,” he whispers. 

You turn to face him, a large grin on your face as your eyes sparkle with so much love and adoration. “I’m in love with you too, Hugh.” 

He smiles to himself and then looks down at his phone, selecting his most favorite photo that he had just taken. Once he posts it on his Instagram, he captions it: I want to love you under the sunlight.

You look over at his post and smile to yourself, cheeks heating up. “Such a romantic.”

“You make it easy,” he smiles, pulling you back into his arms. 

You smile and lean back against him, letting out a contented sigh as you feel his lips rest against the crown of your head. “Hugh?” 

“Yeah, baby?” 

“I love you.” 

Hugh squeezes you into him, arms tight around your waist. “I love you too, baby. More than you know.”

---

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